Dark Devotion
by Amadaun
Summary: A whore becomes an assassin. A healer becomes a killer. Loneliness becomes family becomes devotion. A twisted little story about a twisted little girl.
1. Chapter 1

**Technical stuff: **Cla'nee is mine, The world of Oblivion and all its people belong to Bethesda. Just to get that all out of the way. I doubt that they'd bother to sue me over this, but you never know.

**Rating: **The rating is for violence, mostly. This is a Dark Brotherhood story, after all. Possible "adult themes" later on.

Other Important Info: This fanfic only sticks to the in-game plot for a short time. Many of the characters will be the same, but I'm planning a much, much (hopefully) different plot. In other words, I'm working really, really loosely with the official quest line.

Hang on to your hats, boys and girls - this is going to be a bumpy ride.

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**--Dark Devotion--  
-Chapter One- **

It was one of those rare days in the Imperial City where the sky clouded over and fat flakes of snow fell to the ground. Usually, we were far enough south to miss most of the wintery weather, but sometimes the temperature dropped just enough. I loved the snow. Still do, really. I always promised myself if I made enough money, I'd move up to Bruma, where it seemed to snow year round. Granted, I'd have to live surrounded by Nords, but there were worse fates, I'm sure.

I peeked out the window whenever I had a chance, which wasn't very often, wishing that I could go outside. Even just on the doorstop, under the eves of the building. Anywhere, as long as it involved cold air, and no customers.

You see, I worked in a brothel on the Waterfront. No, it's not what you're thinking…most of the time. My talents ran more towards entertainment - dancing, singing, and playing music. I usually worked in the main area, keeping clients interested if there were no free rooms. As I was today, with two ships into port and a lot of lonely sailors.

The rooms of the brothel themselves, such as they were, were little more than a bed with two flimsy walls on either side of it, one customer to a room. They had doors, which I guess was a good thing, but if you were claustrophobic, you were in trouble. Although, as far as the customers were concerned, the rooms could be stacked like bolts of cloth, and they still wouldn't care. The folks who frequented _this_ particular place weren't known for being particularly picky.

The main area was at least a little bigger, which was also good, and draped with incredibly tacky wall hangings, which wasn't quite so good. So, you see, my lot wasn't as bad as most, but I still hated the place. It was hot, steamy, and smelled of things I'd rather not think about.

It wasn't my idea to work there, mind you. My parents sold me to the brothel when I was only fourteen. They needed the money and decided that they really didn't want an eldest daughter, anyway. Then they had the gall to go off and get themselves killed somehow.

It didn't bother me that much - the whole dying thing, at least. We're poor, we live in the Waterfront District, people die. Besides, you can't blame me for not being terribly attached to them.

The problem was that my contract, the one that said that I was free to leave when I hit eighteen, went with them. Along with any way I had of proving that I was eighteen in the first place. And so, here I am, twenty years old, an indentured servant with no way to get un-indentured. Also known as a slave.

As I said, I managed to avoid most of the things that the other girls and boys had to deal with. But I'd gotten my fair share of that as well. Occasionally, there would be a high-paying customer, and, well…I guess as the hostess, I was considered "elite," or something equally stupid.

The main reason that I was kept off of the main track, though, was my skill as a mage, or more to the point, as a healer. The Madam was too cheap to get a real one, and people tended to end up with bruises and…er… diseases. I had some training in Alchemy and the School of Restoration - and I could read and write - so I was drafted, you might say.

As a result, I was looked upon as sort of a mother figure, even though I was one of the youngest. I thought that it was kind of touching. Annoying, sometimes, but touching.

There was one last reason why I usually didn't deal with the customers. It's kind of embarrassing, though. You see, before I was sold to the brothel, I was part of the Thieves Guild. And, well, let's just say old habits are hard to break. Really, what did that Altmer expect, keeping his gold in his shorts like that? I _told_ the Madam that if he was really expecting thieves to go after that, I was just making him feel better by proving him right.

Anyway, I had just made up my mind to sneak outdoors for a moment, when I heard a shriek from one of the rooms. I was…um…well versed in the different kinds of shrieks, and this one was definitely an "excruciating pain" kind of one.

Instinctively, I grabbed for the staff that was at my side. (Not one of those magical ones that real mages use. No, this was a good, old-fashioned, sturdy hunk of wood, far more suited to cracking skulls than casting spells. It was for extra protection, you see. I had my knife too, but I felt the staff made me more intimidating. Hey, when you're five feet tall and a hundred pounds soaking-wet, you take what you can get.) And sprinted to the back.

It wasn't too hard to find out who had yelled. Doors were flying open every which way, with scared-looking faces peeping out. In fact, the only door that wasn't open was the one that now had a sobbing girl behind it.

Oh, someone was going to _pay_.

I tried the knob. Locked, of course. And only the Madam had the keys.

I shrugged. Oh well. That's what my picks were for. It's not like they were even _difficult _locks. Of course not. Difficult locks cost money. Besides, no one gets past me without a partner, and who's going to peek into a closed door in a brothel, anyway? Honestly. Just get yourself a spyglass and a lonely tower if that's what you want. Don't bother me in an attempt to satisfy your voyeuristic tendencies. Seriously. Go away.

Ahem. Sorry about that. Got a little carried away. Where was I?

Oh, yes. I got the lock open in mere seconds, (It being cheap and all. No, I am not bitter), and threw open the door. Inside, I saw a huge, hulking Nord standing over Eria, a cute little Redguard. She was curled up in the corner, cradling her arm against her chest. He, on the other hand, was busy swaying drunkenly.  
I cursed. Normally, I can spot the drunken ones and throw them out before they do something like this. But I had been so distracted by the snow and...other things, that I'd completely missed him. I muttered a couple more curses, this time in Argonian, and then raised my tiny, Breton voice to a shout.

About as impressive as a kitten hissing at a timber wolf, I know.

"Hey, you! Nord! Get away from her! You have until I count to ten to grab your clothes and leave!"

Yes, I realize that I was talking to him like he was five. Sadly, this was the tried and true method of dealing with unruly customers. Don't ask me why it worked. It just did.

Only…this time, it didn't. The Nord whirled around and glared at me with blood-shot eyes. Ew. Giant naked Nord. He towered nearly two feet above my five, and probably outweighed me by at least two hundred pounds. Despite that - and the fact that his breath was nearly a solid object - I had the advantage. You know how?

Simple. I had the knife, and he was naked. And _damned_ if I wasn't going to make sure that he had no reason to visit a brothel ever again.

He growled at me. Here's a question. Why do they always growl or grunt? Some kind of musky, male, muscle-bound, mating ritual? Does it make them seem bigger?

I rolled my eyes. "You have five seconds left before I make you a very, very sad man."

He grunted, (of course) and charged at me, intent on snapping my neck like a twig.

Now, here's the thing about drunken Nords. They're a little like bulls. They have tons of momentum, but can't see anything more than a blur. This is a trait easily used to one's advantage in a bar fight. Or when you're tiny and pretending to be a bouncer.

I stepped to the side and let him barrel past me. The girl in the room across the hall gave a little scream and slammed her door shut, just in time to give the Nord a permanent doorknob-shaped-dent in his lower abdomen.

Okay, a little lower than his lower abdomen. You get the idea.

He staggered back from his collision with the wall, grabbing at himself and making pathetic, little whimpering noises. I stepped up behind him, and clonked him a good one across the back of the head. He went down like a ton of bricks.

I poked the pile of Nord with my toe a couple of times, and when I got no response, I turned back to Eria. "Stay here for just a sec, okay, sweetie? I'll check on you once this guy is gone." She nodded, tearfully, and I went back to the matter at hand…er…foot.


	2. Chapter 2

**-Chapter Two- **

Okay, so how does a tiny girl remove almost three hundred pounds of comatose man from her hallway?

I'd like to say that's a joke, but it's not. I'd also like to tell you that I did it with my amazing magical powers, but I'd be lying. The truth is, I had to flirt a bit at the waiting customers in order to get them to do it. Embarrassing, really. I often wished that the Madam would hire a bouncer or something, so I wouldn't be stuck doing this sort of thing, but of course she never did.

Once the Nord was safely heaved outside and his clothes chucked out after him, I stashed the staff and ran back to Eria. The oaf probably wouldn't freeze to death. Probably. I had more important things to worry about anyway.

Eria was still in her corner, rocking back and forth, sobbing. I pulled the blanket from the bed and draped it carefully over her shoulders. "Shhh…shhh…It's going to be all right. He's gone. It's okay."

She shook her head, "N-no! No, it's not! L-l-look…" She pulled the blanket back to show me her arm. I recoiled. You didn't have to be a healer to see that the man had broken it, not to mention dislocated her shoulder in the bargain. And here I thought he had just hit her.

I regretted not castrating him when I had the chance, Madam's rules or not.

Eria burst out into howling tears again. _Damn. _This would not do. She'd scare off the other customers, and then all the workers would get their pay docked. I balled up a bit of the blanket and shoved it into her mouth. Her eyes widened and she looked at me plaintively.

"Bite down on that when it hurts. It'll distract you until I get the potions for you." _And it'll keep you at least a little quieter,_ I thought, though I felt extremely guilty. "Stay here, and try to calm down," I told her, before rushing out of the room.

Fortunately, even though my makeshift lab was further down the block, I kept a small store on hand, just in case. I picked out two, along with a stick that I'd hoped to never use, smiled genially at the customers, piped something cheerful along the lines of: "I'll be right with you!" and went back to my patient.

I knelt in front of the girl and pulled the blanket from her mouth. "Okay. Drink this one first." I instructed, uncorking the bottle with a loud pop.

Obediently, she leant forward and swallowed the offered concoction. She grimaced at the taste before her eyes rolled back into her head and she crumpled. She'd probably be pretty annoyed with me for knocking her out without warning, but it was definitely better than the alternative.

"You'll thank me for that later," I muttered, bracing myself against the wall. "Oh, I _hate _this part."

With a much less pleasant pop, I yanked her shoulder back into its socket. Brutal, but effective. If I'd had more time, I'd have done a slower job. The fast-fix method tended to tear things. But since she was unconscious, and I had plenty of healing magic at my disposal, I was willing to take the risk.

A moment of more gentle work had her bones set and braced against my makeshift splint. Then, holding her arm steady, I began chanting a simple cure spell. The pale light streamed from my hands into her body. Finally, I sat back and wiped my forehead. _There! That should be enough until we get the potion into her.  
_  
I smiled, pleased with myself, and propped her up against the wall. I gently pried her mouth open, and poured in the healing potion, rubbing her throat to make sure she swallowed it. When it was gone, I ran my hands over her arm. Perfect. Good as new. Yay for me.

I grinned wickedly. Now came my favorite part -- waking up the patient.

I placed the tip of my finger against her forehead and cast an itty-bitty shock spell. She jerked and her eyes flew open. "Wha-? Who? Oh... hello, Cla'nee. Why am I on the floor?"

I shrugged. "Long story. Trust me. Short story is: you attracted the attentions of a drunken Snow Bear disguised as a Nord. He snapped your arm, I cracked his head, he's cooling his heels in a snowdrift, I fixed your arm, and now you're taking over for me for a while."

"Huh?"

I poked the tip of her nose. "_I _am going to go speak to the boss. _You_ are going to get dressed and keep an eye on things while I'm gone. Understand?"

Guess she was still a little woozy. Hopefully I didn't shock her too hard.

She nodded, struggling into her dress. Once she was decent, I took her hand and lead her into the waiting room. There, I grinned cheekily and waved at the men and women. "Okay, everyone! I need to go run some errands, so Eria here is going to take care of you for a bit! Be nice to her, she's never done this before, so if I find out that anyone tried anything, I'm planting a staff in their skull. Got it?"

Nods, grins and whistles met my announcement. It was almost a pity that they would behave. One of these days, someone would actually try something, and they'd find out that I wasn't being cute. I hate acting perky. And dealing with the Nord had given me the beginnings of a migraine.

I massaged my temples and opened the door with a little more force than was necessary, letting in a blast of frigid air. Ignoring the yells of protest, I let it slam shut behind me. I threw back my head and took in great gulps of the blessedly cold weather. The sun was just setting, and the wind had picked up. Despite that, I didn't care that the dress I was wearing was far too flimsy to wear outside for long. I was just happy to be out of the sauna that was Madame Hlaano's House of Pleasure.

Yes, that is actually the name. Have I mentioned that the woman has the imagination of a brick? No? Well, the woman has the imagination of a brick. She has the imagination of an unimaginative brick.

No, I am not bitter.

Sadly, I needed to walk down to her home and deal with her now. We usually didn't exactly see eye-to-eye on a lot of things.

Actually, she hated me.

I think she hated me because I pretty much controlled her brothel, and I hated her, well, just because. Partly because I had to pretty much control her brothel, but without the benefit of anything really useful. Like...oh... money, for example. But mostly just because.

At least her house was where I kept my Alchemy equipment, so I'd have the chance to restock the potions I had just used. That way, this wouldn't feel like a complete waste of my time.

The snow continued to fall. It caught in my blue-black braid like diamonds, and blew into my eyes, making me blink. I made my way down the cobbled street, kicking up little puffs of snow in front of me. Occasionally, a passerby would either give me a wolf whistle, or a disgusted glance. I ignored both. I was used to them by now.

I knocked on Tevala Hlaano's door. No answer. I knocked again, thankful that I enjoyed this weather. Even when my extremities begin to go numb.  
Eventually, she managed to rouse herself and trundle to the front door. I heard her tromp up to it before it opened a crack, greeting me with a beady little eye. "Whad'ya want, 'Nee?"

I stifled a groan. I'd told her again and again, my name was "Cla'nee", pronounced like a slurred "claw-neigh." She, however, insisted on calling me "'Nee," pronounced as "knee." I never figured out if she was simply too dense to know the difference, or if she simply enjoyed provoking me. "I need to talk to you. I'm coming in."

I shoved the door open before she could react. She sprang back, surprised. You see, normally I wasn't this testy. Normally, I managed to make myself behave. The problem was that I had had the most unnerving feeling that somebody was looking over my shoulder all day long, and it was driving me crazy. I couldn't shake it, and I kept spinning around, hoping to catch someone in the act.

Of course, no one was ever there. And now, with the Nord, and the broken arm, and the mess, I was dangerously close to completely losing my temper, along with any semblance of self-control I had left. Which was bad.  
Trust me.

The Madam slammed the door shut, muttering something about the cold. She was a big woman, especially for a Dunmer, with a startling shock of red hair. Annoying as she could be, she was still quite impressive. Granted, compared to me, a goblin was impressive.

She rounded on me, hands on hips. "Why are you here? You're supposed to be watching the girls!"

"I was. That's _why_ I'm here!" I narrowed my eyes and fairly spit out the words, "That drunken oaf was back. _Again!_ And this time he broke Eria's arm! And he's not the only one that you allow back in, despite me telling you time and time again that they're bad for business and terrible for the girls!"

"They're paying customers!" she blustered back at me.

"_I don't care!_ Haven't you been listening? He broke a girl's arm! If I hadn't knocked him out, who knows what else he would have done to her? Either you let me throw them out for good, or I'm going to start using Destruction spells to remove them!" I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down. If I yelled too much, it just reduced her to a useless, blubbering mess. "Ma'am, I'm quite serious. If one of those men lays another finger on those girls, I'm leaving."

"But-"

"No. I will. You'll lose a lot more money without me than without those goons. The girls have been through enough without having this hanging over their heads." It was an empty threat, and I knew it. I just hoped she didn't, because threatening her purse was the only way to get results around here.

The Madam looked me in the eye and an evil grin spread across her face. "Except…I still own you, 'Nee. You belong to me, and you have to do what I say. And I say that paying customers get what they want, no matter what!"

Defeated, I shook my head. I hadn't really expected this to end any other way. The woman only wanted gold. She didn't actually care about the girls.

I was about to get my potions and leave when I got an idea. It was stupid, foolhardy, and quite possibly the worst idea I've ever had.

Naturally, I decided to do it.

"All right, fine. But don't come whimpering at me if something happens. I wash my hands of this whole mess."

She looked at me smugly. "Good. I'm glad we had this little talk. Is there anything else you need?"

_To shove that grin of yours so far down your throat it can say "Hello" to your toes. _"I need to pick up some potions before I go." I muttered, heading toward the basement.

My "lab," such as it was, was down there. Even though I only owned the Novice-level equipment, I was pretty proud of my Alchemy skills. The basement was a squalid little place, damp and mildewy. Still, it was more private than any other place I spent my time in. And it had a secret that only I knew about.

Once I was sure that Hlaano hadn't followed me down the stairs, I grabbed a sack and shoveled all of my equipment into it. They were joined by the few ingredients I had, as well as a couple of my best potions and poisons.

Then I double-checked that the Madam wasn't watching, and pulled out a certain stone in the corner. Behind it lay my secret, my stash. The coins that I had taken from customers I had served, or pick pocketed, or skimmed from the Madam.

Thieves Guild force of habit, like I told you.

I weighed the bag in my hand. I had about a hundred gold now. I would have more, but I often had to pay for new ingredients out of my own pocket. So what I had wasn't a fortune, I wouldn't be able to buy any armor, but it was enough to feed me long enough to get to another town and find another job. It would have to be enough. I added the coins to my sack.

I slung the sack over my shoulder and looked over the room one last time. If things went the way I expected them to, I'd never be able to see this place again. Somehow, I wasn't nostalgic.


	3. Chapter 3

**-Chapter Three- **

I made a brief stop at our sleeping quarters to transfer my belongings to a knapsack and to grab my real clothes and some food.

I scribbled a note to Eria. I would leave her in charge. She was a bit slow sometimes, certainly, but she was a good, strong woman, and she'd be able to take care of the girls. I smiled ruefully. "Hope you forgive me for taking off like this, Eria."

Leaving the note on her bunk, I threw my cloak over my shoulders. I poked my head through the door and looked around. Nobody. Good. I made my way down the street and around the corner to where Armand met with his young guild. I was technically still a member, and knew I could stash my knapsack there without worrying about it disappearing. Call_ that_ honor among thieves.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come next. I still had the feeling that someone was watching me, but I couldn't afford to let it distract me now. My heart was racing, and I knew I had to relax before I began. A quick double-check told me I had the potions I needed, and my dagger, and then I set off.

The Nord would be in the tavern. He was always in the tavern, the brothel, or passed out in the gutter. Since I knew he wasn't in the brothel, and it was a little early yet for the passing-out, he would be preparing himself for that happy event.

_The only hard part about all this, _I reflected as I came up to the door of The Bloated Float, _is making sure he doesn't try to wring my neck the moment he sees me…Ah! Perfect.  
_  
A young, slightly unsteady sailor was wobbling towards me, intent on making the world even more out of focus. I grabbed his arm as he passed and smiled. He blinked at me, "Erm…can I help ye, miss?"

"Um, well, that is…Could you do me a really big favor?"_ Eyuck. My dignity is going to run off one day if I keep doing this. On that note, better bat my eyes for the full effect. _"You see, there's a man I need to talk to in there, but I'm just too afraid to go in. All those big, scary sailors…If I tell you what he looks like, could you get him for me? Pretty please?"

_Was that too much? _I wondered.

He blushed and puffed out his chest. Apparently not. "Why, sure! Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

"Oh, good!" I hopped up and down and clapped my hands girlishly. _Kill me. Kill me now._ "The man I want is a big Nord guy. Brown hair, big mustache. I think he had a handprint tattoo on his face. I sort of insulted him at work today, and I want to apologize for losing my temper. Could you tell him that?"

"Of course!"  
I fished in my pocket and pulled out some gold, which I pressed into his hand. "And could you get me a couple bottles of ale while you're in there? Get one for yourself too, for being such a dear."

He was in and out in a flash, handing me the bottles I'd asked for, and told me that Thrud would be out in a moment.

Thrud. Good Gods.

I smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Thank you so much!" I gushed, "Now you go back inside and enjoy yourself, and once I'm done here, I'll join you, okay?"

When he was back inside, I shook my head and opened one of the ales. I had no intention of keeping that promise, of course. I poured half of the bottle into the lake, grimacing at the smell. At least it wasn't any of that Vvardenfell liquor. Some of those could seriously take off the roof of your mouth.

That sujamma stuff? Sweet Mara.

I topped off the bottle with my potions, and gave the second ale the same treatment.

I barely managed to shove the second cork into place before Thrud (I'm sorry, I can't say that with a straight face. Thrud. What kind of name is that? Is he named after the noise his head makes when it hits the ground?) came wandering out. He spotted me at once and his face turned bright red. Eek.

I retreated a couple of steps and held up a hand.

"Whoa! Before you hit me, let me talk. Please?" He didn't charge, so I took that as a yes. Okay then. "I just wanted to apologize for throwing you out like that. I was just worried about my friend, and it was a rough day. The Madam says that you're welcome to come back any time you want."

The flush was subsiding from his cheeks (and neck, and chest. Don't these guys wear shirts?) and so I plunged on. I pulled a lock of hair from my braid and twirled it around a finger, attempting to look coy. "I feel really bad about it, so, I was hoping that you'd let me make it up to you? Please, Thrud?"

_Must…not…laugh…in bear-man's…face… _

He grinned lewdly and grunted something that sounded like a yes. I smirked invitingly at him and added, "Let's go someplace…private. I have the drinks."

He followed me like a dog. A big, ugly dog that you really want to give a few swift kicks to. I took him down and around the wall, well away from any guards. We came to a halt on the beach, behind some large rocks. I sat down on the cold sand and patted the patch next to me. I swear that the entire beach shook when he flopped down.

He at once reached for my bodice, but I gently slapped his hands away and waggled my finger under his nose. "Naughty, naughty. There's time for that in a minute. Don't you want your ale first? I bought it especially for you." I pouted prettily and sure enough, he took the bait.

"Sure! There ain't nothing' that ain't better with a lil' splash!" He gave my bottom a pinch. "So we have a lil' picnic, and then maybe we go for a 'ride' in the countryside, huh?"

_Gods._ If there's one thing I hate more than a drunken Nord, it's a drunken Nord who thinks he's good at innuendo.

_Grit teeth, control anger, do not pounce on hulking man-beast and claw his eyes out. _

I didn't trust myself to say anything that wasn't laden with references to his parentage, so I just handed him the bottles with a smile. Then I leaned back against the rock and watched the show.

He yanked out the corks and guzzled the ale in record time. As fast as he was, though, my potions were faster. He drained the second one and blinked muzzily at it for a moment. Then he tried to stand, but his legs gave out halfway there and he fell backwards.

Huh. What do you know? Thrud actually was the sound that his head made, smacking into the sand.

"That was my Drain Strength potion," I informed him, getting up from my rock. "Your muscles are completely useless at this point. But just in case, the paralyze potion should kick in right about--" He stiffened. "--now. Good. I guess I was right about the alcohol strengthening the effects. Normally, I'd be worried about what that would do to a patient, but in your case, I'm making an exception."

I ripped a strip of cloth from his pant leg and stuffed it into his mouth. "We'll need that for a little bit." I told him, pulling out my dagger. "I don't expect this to solve the problem, but you're the worst of the lot, and maybe your disappearance will give the others pause. If nothing else, my girls will be safe from you. And that's something, at least."

I knelt next to his head and drew the point of my dagger down his cheek. His eyes widened in pain and terror.

I laughed quietly. "Shall we begin?"


	4. Chapter 4

**-Chapter Four- **

Dawn was just breaking as I strode across the surface of Lake Rumare. The sun was warming my back and lighting a wobbly path across the water to the shore.

I was shivering a little as my hair and clothes dried in the cold morning air. I'd had to take a dip to clean myself off when I was done with Thrud. Thankfully, my shirt and skirt were already red. I wasn't sure I'd gotten all of the blood out of the linen.

I'd rolled what was left of the Nord into the lake and kicked around the sand that he had been lying on. Once I was satisfied that all looked fine, I had silently retrieved my knapsack and headed off west, across the water. Thank the Nine for water walking spells. They cut hours off of my escape.

I knew I couldn't stay after what I had done. Even if they didn't find him - which was likely, given the slaughterfish that lived around here - things would eventually be traced to me. Maybe not this time, but eventually.

Because I wanted to – to do it again. I wanted to kill.

Perhaps you're shocked. Don't be. There comes a time in every healer's life when she looks at the beauty of repairing flesh, and wonders, just for an instant, if causing pain delivers the same rush. I'd faced that time, and I'd discovered, to both my horror and joy, that it doesn't.

It's better. The sensations are deeper, darker, far more enjoyable. As magnificent as it is to feel wounds repairing under your hands, it comes nowhere near the beauty of seeing that first blossoming of blood when a blade breaks the skin.

I shivered again, less from the cold this time. This was the first time that I'd actually killed someone, despite the temptation. Before, I had stuck to playing with the passed-out drunks. Nobody noticed, and it was good practice for healing as well. A few cuts, here and there, noting the different ways that they bled, occasionally going a little deeper.

And so I played, and learned.

I found that I hated blunt force. Bruises and cracked bones held nothing for me. I considered it unnecessarily savage. Poisons were intriguing. They held the elegance of a blade and added an air of mystique. And there were a hundred different ways to disable or kill with them.

I'd never tried marksmanship on a sentient being, figuring that it was far too obvious, but I managed to sweet-talk a couple of guards into letting me help them get rid of some mudcrabs, and into lending me a bow and arrows.

It took me a bit to get the hang of it, much to the patronizing amusement of the guards, but the joy of hitting a distant target was almost equal to my love of blades. When I actually did hit, that is. I came to the conclusion that the only way I'd manage to use a bow on someone would be if they were blindfolded, chained to the wall, and deaf. Possibly already dead. And that still would be only if I was standing about six inches away.

After a couple of near misses, I had toyed with the idea of "accidentally" hitting one of the guards with a bad shot. At that point, I realized that I was losing control.

I wasn't causing pain out of rage or a sudden, mad impulse. Not at all. The sight of blood gave me a thrill, but I didn't really care how I got it. It made no difference in the end if the cut was savage or gentle. I simply wanted to see blood spilled, and to see the pain surface in someone's eyes.

I sometimes wished that I'd feel something more when I practiced on the drunks. Even now, I didn't feel like I was a murderer. _Perhaps I should._ That's what it was, wasn't it? Murder. I was a murderer, or a murderess, if you wanted to get technical.

What do murderers feel like, anyway? Do they feel guilty? Upset? Or is it more like the content satisfaction you get after some really good sex? Not that I'd had much of _that._ Apparently, our customers' skills were inversely proportional to their coin purses.

At any rate, I was pretty sure that I wasn't supposed to enjoy myself - not the way I did, at least. My detached interest and satisfaction terrified me. It reminded me too much of the mask I hid behind when I was called on to serve a customer. And I knew the helpless anger and fear that lay behind that. I always wondered if maybe, just maybe, deeper emotions boiled beneath the surface of my detachment.

And I feared what they could do.

Thrud was really only an excuse. A way to test myself. A means to the end. I wanted to be sure that I could handle actually killing someone. I had to know if I would pull back from that point. Or worse, if I would be unable to stop myself afterwards. Every bit of my healer's instinct screamed against it, at what I was doing, but it was overruled by my...other...instinct. And in the end, they balanced. And I breathed a sigh of relief.

When it came down to it, the actual killing seemed only a part of the act, not its climax. I thought about that for a while, as I made my way to the far shore, clambering up the rocks. It should have been, but somehow it failed to fulfill. I regretted that it was too risky to light a torch. I could see well enough in the dark, but I hadn't learnt Night-eye yet, and so many details were lost. Perhaps I needed to concentrate more on the kill, compared to concentrating on the process. And it was a very long process. I won't tell exactly what I did to the Nord, but let's just say that I got to see some organs that I didn't know existed.

I paused, halfway up the beach, and thought back over the conversation I'd just had with myself. All at once, I was appalled and shaken. And more than a little sick to my stomach. What was I thinking? I was a _healer_, for Mara's sake! How could I even consider the things I had done acceptable?  
Yet...it was obvious that I loved the pain, loved watching the blood – more than I loved anything else in this world. I practiced on drunks because I didn't want to slip and hurt one of the girls. Because...I would have. I could try to say that I killed Thrud to keep the girls safe, but that didn't change the fact that I'd wanted to. And that I'd enjoyed it. The instant that I'd felt the life leave him…words couldn't describe how I felt.

To a part of me, the power of causing pain was a drug, far more potent and addicting than skooma. It was beautiful, but at the same time...

"Oh, _Gods_!" The shadowed memories of what I had done to the Nord rushed back at me. I was instantly and violently sick.

After what seemed like an eternity, I staggered back down to the water. Rinsing out my mouth, I stared at my reflection. My eyes were red, and swollen from crying, with great dark circles underneath. I looked paler than normal, and working indoors as I did, I was plenty pale to begin with.

Not to put too fine an edge on it, I looked like hell.

I chuckled wetly. "You know," I told my reflection, "I haven't done that since the first time I was bought by a customer. I guess I was due for it after five years." I shuddered briefly at the memory, "At least...at least this time it was something under my control, horrible as it was."

I rocked back on my heels and lifted my head to watch the sunrise over the Imperial City. Nothing had changed. The world hadn't come to an end because I'd given in to temptation. The sun still rose, and everybody, save one, went about their business.

It was...sad that I was likely the only one who would mourn Thrud's death. I sniffed and wiped my face on my cloak. And it was almost funny that I was more broken up about him than I was about the deaths of my own parents.

I needed to decide what I was going to do. I couldn't pretend that I hadn't killed, and that I hadn't enjoyed it. I had to face the frightening fact that I'd willingly taken another's life. And until just now, I took it with no qualms at all. I had to figure out how to balance my healer's instinct with my hunter's instinct.

But before all that, I had to find a warm place to stay before I froze to the beach.

I rubbed my hands together, and jumped to my feet, hopping up and down for a bit to try and warm up. It wasn't snowing anymore, but it was still really cold, and my old cloak wasn't enough to keep me warm. All inner conflict was just going to have to wait until I could feel my fingers again. I needed to make my way to an inn or a village or a town, anywhere with a roaring fire would be good.

I adjusted my knapsack on my shoulder and climbed up to the road. From where I was, Skingrad was the closest town. Unfortunately, from what I heard from travelers, there were no inns on the way. I hadn't slept last night, obviously, and I was going to pass out from exhaustion and nerves pretty soon. But I really had no choice. I was not going to go back to the Imperial City.

For now, maybe if I just kept walking, I'd forget how drained I was going to be in an hour or so. I took a deep breath and headed down the road to the west.

I was determined to savor my newfound freedom. So what if Madame Hlaano sent guards after me? As if she could explain to them why she wanted me. She couldn't claim theft, since she'd have to let them inside the brothel. Guards only really turned a blind eye when they were off duty, you see. Too much attention could get her shut down, especially now that she had no healer.

And she certainly couldn't tell them the truth. "Oh, yes, Mr. Guard, sir. My enslaved healer ran off. Yes, I know that slavery is against the law, but could you bring her back, anyway?" I giggled, imagining her face once she realized that I'd followed up on my threat.

I passed one of the old forts, carefully skirting around in the bushes. Bandits liked to use the ruined structures as a base, and I wasn't sure I'd be able to take more than one of them at a time. At least my sense of self-preservation was still around, even if my sanity appeared to have fled.

Once I got to the crossroads, I debated my path again, and decided to go to Skingrad after all.

I'd heard it was an expensive place to live, but maybe I could get a job at the vineyards. Or as a healer...though that was dangerous. If all else failed, there was always the Thieves Guild, or singing in a tavern.

My marketable skills were few, as my old job didn't exactly call for many. "Obliging, quiet, and doesn't bite," was the best thing said about those particular talents. If they'd been a little more observant, they could have added, "Really, _really_ good actress," to that. I suppose the whistling and the attempts to grab me as I walked by would be a higher compliment, but pardon me if I don't put a lot of stock in it.

The journey to Skingrad was pretty much uneventful. The sun rose higher and higher in the sky and I eyed it warily. I hoped that I'd get to town before nightfall. Nasty things came out at night, and I didn't fancy the idea of camping out in one of the caves. Dark, cold, and slimy. If I wanted that, I'd have gotten a room at The Bloated Float.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the walls of Skingrad rising before me at last. It was only about three or four in the afternoon, but I was bone-weary. Every muscle in my body ached, and I didn't even want to know what my feet looked like. As a dancer, I was in good shape, but honestly? There just isn't that much walking to be done in a brothel. I wasn't used to it. I had to find an inn before I collapsed on the street.

I dragged myself up to the gate. One of the guards looked at me in concern and asked, "Are you all right, Miss?"  
"I'm fine," I lied, "it's just been a long trip and a heavy load."  
"Oh." He scratched his head. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Well, you can start by pointing me towards an inn," I cracked a smile to take the edge off of my curt words.

He returned the smile. "Well, you've got the West Weald Inn, and the Two Sisters' Inn. Any preference?"

"Either, as long as it's close by. I'm beat. I don't sleep well at those inns along the road."

He gave me an understanding nod, "Would you like me to help you there, Miss? You do look exhausted. I can carry your bag for you if you'd like?"  
"That would be...wonderful."

To this day, I cannot remember which inn he took me to. I was just too tired. All I recall is handing over some coin and the guard wishing me a pleasant rest.

I all but fell onto the blessedly soft bed, too exhausted to even undress.


	5. Chapter 5

**-Chapter Five-**

The room was pitch-black when I opened my eyes. I didn't know how long I'd been asleep, and I wasn't sure what woke me. I lay there quietly, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness.

They did, slowly, and I saw a figure standing over me. It - no - he was dressed all in black, blending perfectly into the shadows. Even his boots and gloves were black. I would never have seen him at all if it weren't for the subtle shimmer of the enchantments on his robes. And even then, he was basically invisible.

I am proud to say that I didn't listen to my first impulse, which was to shriek like a little girl and bolt out of the room. Instead, I stayed put, trying to make my heart start working again. After the initial shock wore off, I wasn't that frightened. Truth be told, if you grow up in a brothel, you get used to waking up to see strange men looming over you.

At least this one had pants on.

"Either speak up or get out," I told the figure drowsily, "I've had a brutal last few hours, and I'd really just like to go back to sleep."

"No screaming or open hostility?" His voice was deep and expressive, rumbling through the air like distant thunder, "I find that a refreshing change from the usual."

I sat up, trying to get a look at his face under the hood he wore. It was pointless, though, without a light. "You make a habit of sneaking into women's rooms in the middle of the night?" I fumbled around for the tinderbox on the bedside table. Despite my carefree tone, alarm bells were beginning to go off in the back of my head. There was something not _right _about this whole thing.

Yes, I wake up to find a man dressed all in black looming over me, and I don't immediately think that something's off. I was tired. Leave me alone.

The figure's hand came up, holding the tinderbox. "No. Here." I took it warily, and tried to light the candle with shaking hands. Of course, I couldn't do it. He watched my fruitless attempts for a moment before adding, "Only the rooms of murderesses."

_Ah…! _I started violently, the tinderbox falling from my nerveless fingers and spinning across the floor. He picked it up and lit the candle in one smooth motion as I sat there, gaping like a slaughterfish. Light filled the room, dazzling my tired eyes. I sneezed, and rubbed at them before blinking up at my visitor.

I noticed his eyes first, the deepest, most piercing eyes I'd ever seen, so dark as to be nearly black. He had just the slightest touch of age at their corners. Laugh lines, I realized. I judged him to be in his forties, give or take any amount of years, and quite striking in a "creep-you-the-hell-out" kind of way.

He stepped forward, and I could see that his eyes, now that they caught the light, were brown like mine, but a few shades darker and with flecks of gold. The knowledge that mine were closer to the color of mud puddles made me twitch in jealousy, despite my fear.

"I-I suppose after jumping like that, it'd be silly to say that I don't know what you're talking about, but, how? No one, I mean, were you watching me?" I was stammering, I knew. Even though this man looked like the furthest thing from a guard, there was something even more terrifying about him.

He smiled and my blood ran cold. "I have been watching you for quite a while. Your fascinating little...experiments caught the attention of the Dark Brotherhood some time ago."

"The Dar-" I stopped as an unpleasant memory smacked me across the face like a bucket of ice water. Once, about ten years ago, someone on the Waterfront had been found dead in his house. That was nothing new. People turned up dead all the time in that district. There were whispers that it was a Brotherhood contract. That was nothing new either. Rumors like that also turned up all the time.

But the way the man had died... I had only gotten a glimpse of the body through the crowd, but it had given ten-year-old me nightmares for weeks. And it now reminded me unpleasantly of what I had done to the Nord. "Attention? What do you mean? A-are you here to kill me?"

He ignored my question. "One of my duties in the Brotherhood is to find and recruit individuals who show...promise."

"Oh." I leaned my head against the bed frame and stared at the ceiling, thinking that over. Then the meaning of what he said actually hit me. I sat bolt upright and half-whispered, half-shrieked, "Recruit?! _Me?! _Are you out of your bloody _mind?!"_

He raised an eyebrow. "The girl who recently turned a rather large Nord into handy bite-sized chunks in order to watch him bleed questions _my_ sanity?"

There's nothing creepier than hearing a self-proclaimed serial killer calmly say the words 'bite-sized chunks.' I swallowed. Hard. "...O-okay. Point made. But..."

The assassin leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. Even that small motion revealed how exquisitely trained his muscles were. It was like watching a panther glide around the room. After a moment I realized I was staring. With my mouth open. Okay, okay, I was drooling a little too.

What? I'm a dancer. I was admiring his...er...his...um...um...nevermind. I can't think of any way to finish that sentence and not have it sound dirty.

Stop _laughing._

"You have some training in infiltration from your days in the Thieves Guild, you know how to use a blade," he held up a finger each time he added an item to the list, "you are quite good at poisons, your archery skills could use work, but you can be trained, if necessary. Most importantly, you have a desire to kill. And that is what we do. For enjoyment, for money, and for Sithis. Yes, you show promise and thus I am extending an invitation to you to join our rather...unique family."

"But I don't want t-to kill! I just...it was for the girls. I had to make sure they were safe! You-!" I let the word trail off, and eyed the assassin suspiciously. "You don't believe a word I just said, did you? And why am I defending a murder to a member of the Dark Brotherhood, anyway? That's like trying to tell a rat why you stole some cheese. Er...not that you're a rat, or anything. I mean - that is - dammit. I'm going to shut up now."

He almost smiled. "The offer to join our family is open, whether you wish to take advantage of it or not. We will provide you with a home, a place to sleep, food, the company of like-minded individuals...again, a family, if you will. In exchange, we require you to fulfill certain duties, which I think you will enjoy. You will even earn some coin, perhaps more. Fair, is it not?" He pulled a sheathed knife from his belt and placed it on the bed next to me. "Take this blade as a token. It is a virgin blade, and has never tasted blood. Use it however you wish."

I stared at the knife. It glinted like a sliver of moonlight against the dark bedspread, tempting me. From what I could see, it was much better than my little one. I reached towards it, then paused, wary. "Will I be bound to you if I accept this token?"

His expression was unreadable. "No. Go to the Inn of Ill Omen. It is along the road to Bravil. There you will find a man by the name of Rufio. Kill him."

"Why? What did he do?"

"The intentions behind a contract do not concern us. The Brotherhood acts as executioner, not judge." His eyes darkened. "You will do well to remember that."

"Gleep." I whimpered intelligently.

"If you fulfill the contract, the next time you sleep in a location that I deem secure, I will return and welcome you into our family as a Dark Sister." He began walking towards the door. "If Rufio does not die by your hand, we will know, and you will not be approached again. Decide wisely."

"W-wait!" I cried, holding out my hand. He paused and looked at me silently as I stammered out my last question. "Um...W-what's your name?"

"Lucien Lachance, Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood. And now I bid you farewell, little _Lorngua_." With those words, he shimmered out of existence, the door opening and closing on its own.

I sat there, stunned. I stared at the door, then at the blade on the bed, then at the door again. I was shaking, icy cold, feeling as though I'd brushed near Death itself. Slowly, I reached out a trembling hand and touched the blade, reassuring myself that it was solid, and the whole thing wasn't a product of a mad dream.

The blade was indeed solid in my hand, yet light as a feather. I ran my fingers over the intricate metalwork of the scabbard and pommel, resting my palm on the hilt. Ebony. _Gods._ Incredible. It was as though it were made for me.

I started to draw it, but...no. Not yet. I would have to resheath it unblooded. That would be somehow...wrong. The dark beauty I held was made for blood. _Perhaps...perhaps we are the same, you and I. I have had my baptism. Dare I deny you yours?_

I pressed the dagger's sheath to my cheek, to my lips, like a child with her doll.

The comfortable familiarity of cold metal brought me out of my trance. I took a deep breath, blinked, ran a hand through my hair, and yanked hard. The pain brought tears to my eyes. Nope, definitely not dreaming. In that case..."What the _hell_ just happened?!"

* * *

A/N: A cookie to whoever can translate the (admittedly rather rough) Ayleid that Lucien uses.


	6. Chapter 6

**-Chapter Six-**

I thought I would be too wound up to sleep after my nighttime visitor. Thankfully, my body announced to my brain that it could do laps all night long if it wanted to, but everyone else was going to lie there like a dead log, thank you _very_ much. And so, sleep I did.

I didn't wake again until the late-morning sun shone full in my face. I commented on the sun's relationship with its mother, and reluctantly sat up. Rubbing my eyes, I squinted across the room at a mirror hanging on the wall. _Holy crap._ Someone forgot to take out her braid. Lucky for my clothing, I at least had the presence of mind to undress before I went to sleep for the second time. Unlucky for me, clothes didn't hurt to untangle.

"Ow, ow, _ow_. Ooooow…owwie…stupideghpthingknot…owowowowow." With a little work, I got my braid undone and ran my fingers through my hair a couple of times to try and comb it out. I risked another look in the mirror. Oh joy. Now I looked as though one of my shock spells had backfired on me. I swore for the umpteenth time to just chop it all off, stomped over to the washbasin, and dunked my head in up to the shoulders.

Once I started running out of air, I flung my head back. An arc of water followed my hair, drenching the ceiling, wall behind me, and the floor. It was _very_ satisfying to watch. Then, what felt like ten pounds of wet hair slammed into my back, knocking the wind out of me.

"Ow, again." I gasped, and squeezed the rest of the water out of my hair and back into the basin. "You know," I told my reflection, "one of these days, I'm actually going to come up with a good idea. Sure, Oblivion will freeze over, but maybe the Daedric Lords like to ice-skate."

My reflection looked doubtful, so I stuck my tongue out at it.

I finally found my shed clothing, shoved halfway underneath the bed. I shook them out and looked at them with a critical eye. Not too wrinkled. And they'd missed my baptism of the inn room. My cloak, of course, did not. I'd have to hang it in front of the fire at breakfast. For that matter, I ought to look for some warmer clothing. Maybe some fur armor, even. If I could afford it. Staying at the inn would burn through my gold really fast.

Yes, I was trying very, very hard to pretend that I was just a normal girl. Of course I hadn't killed a man. Dark Brotherhood? Pfft! Rumors. Shadows to scare children at night. Nothing whatsoever to do with me.

I got dressed, pointedly ignoring the dagger on the bedside table. I don't know why. Maybe I thought it would disappear if I didn't look right at it. Maybe I wanted to believe it was all a dream.

And maybe, just maybe, I didn't want to face up to the fact that I wanted badly to give it its first taste of blood.

If I accepted the Speaker's offer, I would have a safe place to live. I would have a home. I would have a job, albeit not one I could really tell people about. For once, people would be taking care of me, instead of the other way around.

That in itself was an attractive idea. I was a private person, and hated being the center of attention that I usually was at the brothel. Even though I was an entertainer, I didn't like a lot of people watching me. Weird, I know.

I guess that was why I was so disturbed by the whole thing. I had thought that no one would ever know about my dark habit. It was my own personal sin. I guarded it closely, almost obsessively. To suddenly find out that somebody, a lot of somebodies probably, did know about it _really_ unnerved me. It was like discovering that the monster in your closet was real, and he worked for the Black Horse Courier.

Okay, bad analogy, but you get the idea.

I started to re-do my braid and noticed that my fingers were shaking. I was still badly rattled. With a sigh, I ploomfed down onto the bed, staring at my hands. The thought of killing people for a living scared me. The thought of joining the Brotherhood scared me. The Brotherhood itself scared me. Lucien Lachance abso-bloody-lutely terrified me. Could I live like that?

Still…it _was_ a nice knife. I really couldn't just leave it behind. That would be wasteful, right? And I would need a good knife. And even though I was very wary about accepting gifts, especially gifts from men, I believed the Speaker when he said that I wouldn't owe anyone anything for it.

Don't ask me why. Maybe it just seemed that someone like him had better things to be doing than lying to a runaway whore.

"It can't hurt to take you along, can it?" I murmured, only half to myself. "And…it wouldn't hurt to go to this inn. I'll meet Rufio, and decide what to do then. I-I suppose I could always warn him, if he seems like a nice person. And maybe I can find a job in Bravil. I don't really want to spend the rest of my life picking grapes." I turned, and looked over at the table. "But I don't think I want to spend the rest of my life killing people either, do I?"

_Do you, Cla'nee?_

_Do I?_

_I…_

I took the knife. 

* * *

The Inn of Ill Omen was a truly decrepit-looking building. I thought that the Bloated Float was bad, but this place looked as though it would fall down around my ears if I so much as looked at it wrong. What kind of innkeeper would have an inn this run-down, and _also_ name it the Inn of Ill Omen?

He either had a very twisted sense of humor, or else he was as dumb as a sack of hammers.

I was staring dubiously at the building and leaning towards the latter when the bushes to my left began to rustle and a man carrying a bow wandered out. I promptly had a very quiet heart attack.

"Don't _do_ that," I gasped, pressing a hand to my pounding heart. _I'm on edge enough already,_ I thought, but did not add.

"I'm sorry, Miss. I was just looking for some of my arrows." He gestured at a makeshift target. A few arrows were still embedded in it. I pressed my lips together, staring at it, and tried to look nonchalant. The marksman was young, good-looking, and dressed like any other commoner. But, between Thieves Guild and the brothel, I could tell Imperial Legion when I saw it.

Blast it _all._ Did I have some kind of sign on my back that read: "Attention, bad luck. Kick me. Hard." The nonchalant look failed miserably, and I grimaced.

The Legionary – probably a Forester, actually – mistook my expression. "Good name, huh?"

"I – what? Oh." I made a face. "Wonderful. It doesn't have any rats or bugs, does it?"

"Can't say I've noticed any."

I decided that probably meant that I'd find a giant spider on my pillow in the middle of the night. Or a rat the size of a small dog. Come to think of it, do rats come in any size other than "small dog?" If not, that would probably be why you don't see many cats around. Mountain lions, yes. Cats, not so much.

At any rate, I bid a good evening to the Forester (lucky, lucky me) and headed inside.

It was pretty cozy on the inside, though it looked even smaller than it had on the outside. My doubts about the whole thing were validated when the innkeeper looked up at the sound of the closing door and boomed, "Well, tan my arse and call me a bear rug! A customer!"

I barely stopped myself from slamming my head against the doorframe a couple of times. I'd actually found someone with a worse sense of business than the Madam had. Maybe they could get together and open a place called "The House of Surly Women and Venereal Diseases."

Slogan: "Don't worry, it can be reattached!"

Although, despite that, I actually found myself liking the innkeeper – a big step for me, given my usual opinion of Nords. I will admit that the men on the Waterfront probably aren't the best examples of their gender, but the Nord men had _always_ been the most troublesome for me. Not the absolute worst customer ever, but close.

The worst? Eh…I'll tell you when you're older. If you're very, very good, and _never mention it again_.

Thank you. Now shut up and listen.

On the other hand, the innkeeper seemed a friendly, funny sort. Even if he did end up being as dumb as a sack of hammers. Which reminded me…

I jabbed a thumb over my shoulder, gave a lopsided smile, and asked, ""The Inn of Ill Omen?'"

He shrugged. "I know, I know…I bought the inn from someone else and didn't want to change the name. Besides, I liked the sign."

I had to admit, the sign was pretty nice.

"Fair enough. So, do you have any bad-luck-bread or born-under-the-wrong-stars-cheese?"

He blinked at me, then burst into laughter. "Ah! That's good! I like it! You've got a sharp tongue on you, girl. Maybe I'll add those to the menu."

I nodded in half-hearted agreement as I sat down. After all, it couldn't possibly _hurt_ his business any. The innkeeper set a plate of bread and cheese in front of me, and placed an apple next to that. I gave him a questioning look.

"The apple's a little extra for making me laugh like that. On the house."

I went through the usual line of thought that I had when given a gift. It always began with, _What?_ before moving on to, _What does he want? They always want something. He'd better not want that. Or that. Well, maybe he doesn't want something. Bloody _hell_, he doesn't. Were you born under a rock or something?_

Fortunately, I remembered pretty quickly that I wasn't at the brothel anymore, and maybe out here people really did give strange girls food for making them laugh. Fresh fruit was a weakness of mine, anyway.

Again, I wondered briefly why I hadn't been this paranoid about the dagger. This time, I decided that the Speaker certainly did want something. It just happened to be a much different something. Certainly a much more complicated something. And I wasn't going to be able to just close my eyes and ignore it.

As I munched, I chatted amiably with the innkeeper – another first for me – until he stretched and winced, reaching back to rub a shoulder.

"Are you all right?" I asked, reaching for my pack, and the healing herbs it contained, before I even realized what I was doing. Why, oh why did I always end up taking care of people?

"Aye, fine," he winced again, "There must be a storm on the way. My joints have been achin' again. Not much to do for it, young 'un. You'll know what it's like when you're a tad older."

I personally had no intention of knowing what it was like. But it did give me an idea. I hoisted my pack up to my lap and dug around in it. "I might have something to help you with that."

The bartender peered over my shoulder, curious, "You a healer-woman?"

"Something like that. More of a dabbler, really." In fact, I considered myself quite good at my trade, even though I'd never really been formally trained. Only the smallest handful of priests were willing to teach a whore. Or to be more precise, only the smallest handful of them didn't make me really nervous. The healers were better than most, but you still never knew when they'd break out in sermons or something.

So, most of what I knew I had picked up from watching from the shadows of the Temple. And on the Waterfront, there had been no shortage of injury, disease, and death to hone my meager skills on. Most of it I didn't even cause.

"What does that one do?" he pointed at a jar near the top of my pack. The salve inside was a beautiful bright blue.

_Urk._ Trust me to leave that one on top. I'd forgotten that I'd even had it. _Of all the..._ "Er...helps with the heart."

"Really?" he eyed it, "Maybe the old man in the basement could use a touch o' that. He's got a weak heart, may do 'im some good."

I eyed the mixture and shoved it all the way down to the bottom as nonchalantly as I could. It probably _would _help Rufio. It helped most men his age, to tell the truth. But I really didn't want use it on him. The method of application alone would make me want to chop my own arms off.

Ick.

"Old man in the basement?" I asked, placing a couple of vials on the counter in front of me. "Don't tell me that you have a ghost here, too?"

The innkeeper laughed, "Oh no. He's just an old man who basic'ly lives down there." He pointed at a corner behind me. A trapdoor lay half-hidden in the shadows. _Ah..._ "Used to be the cellar 'til he moved in. But he pays his bill, so I don't complain."

He rambled on as I mixed together the contents of my pouches and vials. As promised, the result would indeed help him with his joints - I felt I owed him that much for what I was about to do to his only customer. But just the same, I had to be sure that I would get away without suspicion.

And so, I added a handful of Motherwort, the herb I usually used to put my patients to sleep. It wouldn't knock him out completely, but it would make him drowsy enough to lose track of time. And maybe then, I could sneak downstairs, and figure out my life.

Something that the innkeeper said caught my attention. "I'm sorry, I missed that last bit. What did you say?"

"That I think the old man's hiding from something?" I nodded, and he looked away, muttering, "Nasty bit of business. No proof, mind you. But I hear things...Shouldn't say, though. Not to a young girl..."

I put on my best concerned face, "Is it something I could help with?"

"No, no. Just...rumors from the Imperial City."

And then, something clicked into place. A rumor that I had heard. A man imprisoned for commissioning the Dark Brotherhood. His daughter had been raped and killed, they said, and the murderer gone. Gone beyond the reach of the Legion, at least.

I felt a sick headache start to form. It must have shown on my face, because the publican was staring at me. "From the City?" he asked quietly, and I nodded. He stared at the ground. "You shouldn't worry."

"It's not...I mean, thank you, but I know how to take care of myself." I forced a cheery smile, "Besides, I doubt that he's the one that the rumors spoke of. From what you say, he seems on his last legs already." I caught my bottom lip between my teeth, "Maybe I ought to help him, poor man."

The innkeeper stared at me again, shaking his head slowly in disbelief. "You're a good soul, girl."

I let out one, sharp, bitter laugh. "No, I'm not. I'm really not." 

* * *

Night found me sitting by the fire, staring into a mug of ale. The innkeeper was fast asleep in another chair. The Motherwort had done the job that it was intended to do. He would never know if I let myself down through the trap door.

Now what?

If Rufio was the man in the rumors, he deserved to die in far more vicious ways than the Nord had. With all my heart, I wanted to go down there and...and...do something to him. I knew that I could slip some poison into the mug I held, and none would be the wiser. He had a weak heart. It would look natural. Simple.

He didn't deserve simple.

My thoughts drifted to the girl's father. He was in prison for wanting justice. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. If I killed Rufio quietly, the father'd never know that his daughter had been avenged. I wanted him to know.

And Rufio did not deserve simple.

But how? I didn't want to be caught. If they didn't kill me outright, I'd be shipped back to the Imperial City. To the prisons. I tightened my grip on the mug. Back to the Waterfront, afterwards.

"No." I declared, quietly. "I will not be caught. Never. The Madam will never find me. Not even a rumor to hear of me. Nothing."

And then, suddenly, I knew what I would do with Rufio. I smiled to myself.

And it wasn't going to be simple, but - oh - would it be fun.


	7. Chapter 7

**-Chapter 7-**

Carefully, I lifted the trapdoor and climbed down the ladder. I carried my pack and balanced a mug of ale in my free hand.

It was harder than you would think.

So after I got to the bottom and wrung the ale out of my skirts - and my shirt - and my hair – I examined the two doors. The first one was locked, and locked tight. I didn't want to make too much of a ruckus yet, so I tried the second. That one was unlocked.

_Here goes nothing._

Waiting for me on the other side was an old man staring at me with wild eyes. I guess that the sound of me spilling ale all over myself had woken him. Either that or the blistering string of curses afterward. It's simply _amazing_ what you pick up from sailors when you grow up in a port.

"Who are you?" he demanded, "Why are you here? I didn't do anything, I tell you! I didn't!"

_That_ was as clear an admission of guilt as I'd ever heard. As if his body language didn't already give him away. How on Nirn did a man like this escape the guards in the Imperial City? I dug my fingernails into my palms, trying desperately to keep my emotions from showing on my face.

"I didn't say that you did. I just..." I hefted my pack and he scurried backwards a few steps, "I'm a traveling healer. The innkeeper mentioned that you might need some help...?"

"I don't know what he told you, but I didn't do nothing!" He was frantic now, shouting wildly at me. "It wasn't my fault! I told 'er not to move! It wasn't my fault!"

_Okay, you know what?_ I thought, _Screw it. This man is not worth the act or the trouble. I'm going to get some pleasure out of this, if nothing else._

"Bastard." I said, with the deepest loathing that I could muster. "Look at you! Hiding like a rat. You haven't even got the balls to own up to what you did!"

"No, no...you don't understand...the Brotherhood! The Dark Brotherhood! They're looking for me! I know it, but they can't find me...as long as I hide, they won't see me... It wasn't my fault. It was her fault, anyway...they won't see me..."

A surge of anger shot through me. How _dare_ he blame it on the dead girl? The edges of my vision literally went red. My control slipped through my fingers. I took a deep breath to try and calm myself, shaking with pure fury.

But even as I regained control, I wondered which side of me _had_ that control. And then I realized that I didn't care.

"You pathetic fool," I snarled at him, "All you achieve from _hiding_ like a rat is _dying_ like one as well!"

His eyes went huge with comprehension, "No..." he blubbered, "No...! You're just a girl! You're a healer! You can't do this!"

"Try and stop me, _rat_."

He flung himself at me, half to attack, and half to escape. A lucky swing blacked my eye. Another caught me on the shoulder. I allowed him to bear me to the floor, hands on my throat. For a moment, I caught a glimpse of the Rufio that had attacked the girl. It made me sick.

I took a deep breath - his grip was barely enough to bruise, let alone cut off my air - and screamed. I have very strong lungs, and the scream tore through the air like an arrow from a bow. From above, I heard a thump, then a bang, as though someone had leapt to their feet quickly enough to knock over a chair.

Now I had to move quickly. Rufio had to die by my hand, not the innkeeper's. I wanted it to look like he'd started it. Like he had attacked me as he'd attacked that girl. A blade could be too risky, so I had to rely on other skills. Every girl at the brothel knew them, and I was better at it than most. I had to be.

I pulled my arm free, and punched the old man as hard as I could. He howled and recoiled enough for me to grab his collar. Using that as leverage, I brought my knee up sharply into the bottom of his rib cage. His old bones splintered at the impact; plunging dagger-like into his heart and lungs.

"You...you're just..." He shuddered, coughed hot blood onto my face, and lay still on top of me.

I let my head fall back. I was shaking all over, my anger vanishing. He had died so quickly! It had been so easy! And the fear…The Nord had been afraid, but not like this. The absolute soul-wrenching terror still hung in the air. I fancied that I could taste it – could still see it in the flat, dead eyes. Finally, I felt something real at my kill. Not much – and I didn't know what it was – but it was there.

I shuddered.

There was shouting from up above, and the sound of footsteps. When the trapdoor flew open, the innkeeper and the Imperial Forester from outside found me on the floor, sobbing, apparently trying to shove Rufio's dead weight off of me. Strong hands grabbed me and lifted away the body.

I sobbed and shook, and whimpered over and over, "I just wanted to help him. I only wanted to help."

The Imperial Forester stood away from the body, shaking his head. "Dead."

"D-dead?" I let my mouth fall open, feigning shock. After all, if you can fake one thing, you can fake them all. "Oh no, oh no...I-I didn't mean to! He just - I just-!"

The Forester picked up my bag, taking a quick glance inside. "You're a healer, miss?"

"Y-yes...I didn't mean to! I just wanted to help!"

The innkeeper led me away from the body, "It's all right, girl. Let me get you upstairs. No one's blaming you."

"M-my bag..."

"Right here." The Forester handed it to me and I clutched it to my chest. The outline of the Speaker's blade pressed between my breasts. I held it close, and smiled to myself.

Upstairs, the innkeeper fumbled around underneath the bar and came up with a bottle full of an amber-colored liquid. He poured about an inch into a tumbler and held it out to me. I took it, sniffed it, and sneezed. Brandy. I looked up at him questioningly.

"Drink it, girl. It'll help." He ran a hand through his hair, looking helplessly at me. "I-I'll go get Miranda. She'll be better at this than me."

Moments later, I had a middle-aged Redguard woman holding me tightly. I no longer had to feign my look of shock. There had been _another_ person here? Between her and the Imperial Forester, I half expected to see little Bosmers popping out from under the floorboards like a kind of bizarre mushroom.

_I am an idiot._ I hoped that whichever Brotherhood member was watching me, they wouldn't think me quite as stupid as I did.

_The Brotherhood!_ I choked on the brandy, almost spitting it across the room. The woman - Miranda - pounded me on the back as I gasped for air. In my anger with Rufio, I'd nearly forgotten that I was actually killing him for someone else. I was in the Dark Brotherhood now. No turning back.

I'd convinced myself that Rufio's death was right. But I also knew enough about human nature to know that not all of the Brotherhood's targets would be like that.

What had I gotten myself into?

"Miss?"

I started nervously, shoving my thoughts into a far corner of my mind.

"I hope you don't mind too much, but I do need to know what happened." The Forester looked down at me with concern, and more than a little nervousness. I realized that he was as new at dealing with a murder - I mean, a death - as I was. Probably newer.

"I - I'm not really sure...He - I'm sorry, I don't know your name," I gestured at the innkeeper, "I helped him with his pains, and he said that the old man downstairs had trouble with his heart. I thought that I could do something to help, but when I went down there, he..." I stopped and put my hand to my mouth, as though to hold back tears. In reality, I was reliving the last moments of Rufio's life. As much as I hated blunt force, in his case, it held certain...satisfaction.

I pulled my hand away from my face and realized that I still had Rufio's blood on me. The drops on my face were now smeared on my hands. I'd never seen blood on my hands in the light before. Not like this, at least. The red, glistening sheen was...beautiful.

I realized that all three of them were staring at me. I jerked myself out of my reverie, wetting my lips. There was still something I had to do.

"He said something...odd, before he..." I trailed off.

"Yes?"

"He - this sounds crazy - but he accused me of hunting him down. He talked as though...he's done this before. And he said that the D-dark brotherhood was after him, because of something he did. And there was a rumor..."

The Forester's jaw had set. Apparently, he'd heard the rumor too. I realized with a flash why he had been hanging around this particular inn. Mara...the noose was growing tight indeed.

"If you knew, then why were you so foolish as to approach him in the first place?"

I hung my head and spoke barely above a whisper, "I thought I could help."

The Forester let out a huge sigh. "Akatosh save me from helpful healers. I'd best head back to the Imperial City to make my report," he lowered his voice to a mutter, "Maybe now they'll let that poor man out of prison. Dark Brotherhood indeed! Killed by a scrawny little healer..."

_Scrawny? Who's scrawny? I'll bet that you're not the most impressive sight out of your armor, either, bucko. I'll show him scrawny...my ass._

"Are you going to be all right here, miss?"

My mind raced. I wanted out of this place as soon as possible. I wanted away before some guard captain happened to wander by, just as I was discussing the details of the kill with a Brotherhood member.

Come on. You_ know_ that it'd happen to me.

"Is there another inn close by? I don't mean to be rude, but," I let my nervousness show in my eyes, "I don't think I could stay here anymore."

"There's another one just down the road, Miss. Do you want-?"

"No!" I all but shouted. Biting my lip, I lowered my voice when they all began to stare at me again. "I mean, I'd rather be alone right now. I need to…think."

_Two people now. _


	8. Chapter 8

**- Chapter 8 -**

Thankfully, it was quite late at night, and the Khajit at the inn down the road had been far too tired to ask me about the splatter of blood on my dress or my blossoming black eye. Even so, the first thing I did in the new room was to try and heal the eye up – for all the good it would do. The pain would be gone, certainly. But the blood beneath the skin would take a day or two to reabsorb. I'd probably get questions, or at least a couple odd looks in the morning.

I at least managed to scrub most of the blood out of my bodice. I made a mental note to buy something even darker than red if I was going to keep up this line of work. Maybe that's why all the assassins wore black. Blood really stained things.

Once again, I was trying to keep my mind and hands busy to avoid thinking about what had just happened.

I was scared. I was almost too scared to close the door of my newly rented room. I snooped into every corner, but the sense that someone was watching me didn't go away. And after the last time, I knew what that meant. I probably wasn't alone. I was scared of what I knew was coming, and…I was scared of what I had done. I was scared of what I had felt. The mask – that wall that I'd built up inside of myself – it was starting to chip at the edges. I was losing that balance that I thought that I'd achieved. It scared me to death, and it confused me.

I still didn't know what I was supposed to be feeling about all this. Fear seemed natural. But I didn't think that I should have let my anger get the best of me. But could I have…have killed him without it? What would happen if I had to kill someone that I couldn't make myself hate?

Or worse, what if I hated someone that I wasn't supposed to kill? What if the innkeeper, or the Forester had made me angry? Would I have lashed out to see the blood, to see the fear? To gain that little bit of power over them? Trade the control that I had over myself for the control that I would have over a victim? I suspected that wasn't going to be the best trade, even if I would be the only one walking away.

Maybe this whole Dark Brotherhood thing was a really bad idea after all.

Maybe I really ought to have figured that out _before_ I killed Rufio.

_Now what? _I stared at the wall for a while, tapping my fingers against my leg. I was debating fiercely with myself. I hated being off balance like this. I didn't want to let down my guard enough to sleep, but I couldn't stay awake all night. I had to fall asleep some time – despite the fear. If I didn't, the assassin would probably show up again anyway, once I was too exhausted for it to make much of a difference.

In fact, I'd have bet that he'd followed me all the way to the Inn of Ill Omen, just in case I'd been unable to finish his contract. He seemed the type.

I also had a feeling that he enjoyed playing mind games like this. He definitely seemed the type for that. Well, two could play that game. Right? Right.

After a little more internal debate, I placed the washbasin pitcher in front of the door where anyone entering couldn't help but knock it over. Then I filled it with water so I would know if it had been knocked over and then replaced. After that, I dug around in my pack for a bag of ironwood nuts. Small and round, they would either trip a person, or shatter with a loud crunching noise when trod on. Those I scattered all around my bed. For the finishing touch, I took one of my darker bodice ribbons and tied one end to the washstand, and the other to the leg of the room's desk.

Standing back, I surveyed my handiwork and nodded. Anyone sneaking into my room in the middle of the night would be hard-pressed to not alert me in some way. Even if they knew what was there. With that thought, I curled up in bed and tried to relax.

"His soul to Sithis and his name forever blackened. Impressive for a first contract, if amateurish. Much like that eye of yours, I may add." The deep voice jolted me quite nicely out of a sound sleep.

I said, "Gghlk!" and stared in shock at the assassin standing over me. The pitcher that I'd placed in front of the door was now on my bedside table, still filled to the brim. A bowl beside it contained the ironwood nuts. The makeshift tripwire was coiled up on top and tied together. In a bow.

_Mind games. Riiiiiiight. _

_I lose._

Now I was scared _and_ embarrassed. And a little mad. You know how I said that I hated being off-balance? I hated having my nose rubbed in it even more. And so I reacted the same way I always did when I got upset. I got bitchy. Some part of me didn't want this one-sided battle of wills to be over yet.

That would be the part that got me into this whole mess in the first place. You know, the one that always comes up with the spectacularly _stupid_ ideas? Right. That one.

"Nice to see you too." I sat up and squinted meaningfully out the window. Going by the moon, it was a little past midnight. "Do you do this often? Because if you do this often, I'm quitting right now."

"I don't believe you have a choice." The Speaker's voice sounded amused. He flicked something at my head that I caught reflexively. When I brought my hand down, I saw that I held a tinderbox. "Are you able to light the candle this time, or shall I?"

_Damn him anyway._ It seemed that he enjoyed having me off balance even more than I hated it. I glared at the little metal box as though it were to blame. Very deliberately, and possibly spectacularly stupidly, I set it down on the bedside table, leaving the candle unlit. Then I lay back, closed my eyes and pulled the covers up to my chin. "You want to talk? Then talk. But I'm _still_ tired, and if I fall asleep again, you'll have to come back later."

"I see." There was silence for a heartbeat. Suddenly, something slammed into the pillow like a thunderbolt. I swear I levitated sideways clear off the bed, landing in a very undignified heap on the floor. Still holding the covers, I shoved my hair out of my eyes to see the Speaker still staring at me calmly. Only now he held a dagger that was buried hilt-deep in the pillow, just about a half an inch away from where my head used to be.

I stared at the hilt, open-mouthed, before yelping, "You _bastard!_ That was –! That's not –! I'll have to pay for tha-!"

"Hold. Your. Tongue." I did so. In fact, I almost bit straight through it. Though his expression was still perfectly pleasant, his eyes glittered dangerously in the darkness. I clutched the covers to my chest and tried not to whimper. "You forget yourself, _Lorngua_. You forget _me_. I suggest that you do not do so again. Now, you shall remain silent. I shall explain, and you shall listen. You will not use that sharp little tongue of yours until I am finished. Otherwise, I may just lose my temper and cut it right out of your pretty mouth. Do you understand?"

_Oh Gods, oh Gods, oh Gods…_

"Nod if you understand me."

I nodded, eyes wide with fear. The bed was suddenly nowhere near enough of a barrier between us. The entire province of Cyrodiil wouldn't have been enough for me.

"Good. You are now one of us. To be precise, you are now one of mine. Thus, you will be living in my Sanctuary, hidden safely in the city of Cheydinhal. In that city, to the east of the chapel, you will find an apparently abandoned house. Find it, enter it, and in the basement, you will find the Sanctuary. That will be your new home. Nod if you understand so far, and please – do not speak."

I nodded again. I felt a line of warmth running down my chin from where I had bitten my lip. The sick pain was making me nauseous, but it was better than crying. I wasn't going to cry. I swiped at the trickle of blood and concentrated on the dark smear across my fingers. I tried to imagine that it was Rufio's. I tried to recapture the feeling that it had given me earlier.

I was _not_ going to cry. Not in front of him.

"Good. The entrance to the Sanctuary is obvious, but it is also protected. You will be asked a question before you are allowed inside. Answer thus: 'Sanguine, my Brother.' Inside, you will be greeted by Ocheeva. You will, for now, be answering to her. I suggest you do not try your tongue on her either. I also suggest that you ask her about the Tenets of the Brotherhood. It may save you from future…punishment."

I began to imagine that the blood belonged to the Speaker. That helped a little bit more. Not much, though.

After a few breaths of silence, I realized that the Speaker was finished with his instructions. But I couldn't make myself uncurl from the little ball of terror that I was huddling in. I found myself wishing that he'd just killed me. What kind of fate could possibly wait for me in a den of assassins? If this meeting was any indication, I wouldn't outlive the week, anyway. And I wasn't sure if I wanted to.

"_Lorngua_, we may be killers, but you are now family." I started, realizing that I'd spoken aloud. Probably whined aloud, given my current state of mind. But he didn't seem upset. Granted, he hadn't seemed upset when he was less than an inch away from giving me a new mouth, either. I decided that silence was probably the best course of action now.

He continued, "We are not as heartless as you imagine us. Death and blood tie us together, but it is a bond that is all but unbreakable. If you serve well, you will be cared for and loved as much as the greatest of us. I call you _Lorngua_, because that is what you are. You are to become darkness incarnate, just as your other Brothers and Sisters who serve me. _My_ darkness. My newest Sister, you belong to the Brotherhood, and to me, and we _will_ care for you."

I uncurled a little and looked up at the Speaker. He'd removed the dagger from the pillow and was now playing absently with the blade, twirling it between his fingers. He played with the deadly little toy as if it were an extension of himself. Entranced, I watched the sliver of metal flash about. Part of me wished that I could do such a thing. Part of me wished that I could watch the display forever. And a small part of me wished that he would slice his fingers off.

But only a small part.

He spoke again, his voice a low purr, "We of the Brotherhood move as this blade. Flashing in and out of the darkness to strike as Sithis wills. It is a dangerous, bloody, deadly dance. Some do not survive. But to be a Dark Sister is not such a horrible fate. If you allow yourself, you may yet be more than you are. It will take work, certainly. You are rough; unskilled compared even to our rawest recruits. But you have the desire, if you dare to face it as you should. And you may yet see the true beauty of pain and death."

He stopped, and a cruel smile curled his lips. I realized that my hand had reached out towards him beseechingly. "Do you desire something, _Lorngua_?"

I yanked my hand back. "N-no."

"Pity. You should." The dagger vanished. "I do hope you've learned to stop fearing yourself the next time I see you. And by the way," he tapped one gloved finger against the pitcher, "my patience is limited. _Don't_ try this again."

I remained with my back pressed tightly against the wall, watching the Speaker warily as he vanished again. He was mocking me. I knew that he was mocking me, and I was too afraid to do anything! _Damn him!_

I jolted to my feet, threw myself across the bed, grabbed the pitcher, and flung it at the door. The clay shattered spectacularly, spraying water everywhere. But the door remained closed, mocking my impotent gesture of rage.

* * *

(A/N: Okay, then. Lucien's Ayleid is really rather bad, but don't tell him that. _Lor_ translates to "Dark" as I'm sure most of you have realized. The _–ngua_ part was my own guess from some of the Ayleid used in KotN. In there, the phrase _Balangua_ is used to mean (roughly) "my power." So I used _Lorngua_ to mean (just as roughly) "my darkness." I'm pretty sure that it's not real Ayleid. :) 

Basically, Lucien's being a cocky bastard, and claiming Cla'nee as one of his assassins – and belonging to him – before she even killed Rufio. Hopefully, she'll never figure that out, or she'll throw a really big tantrum. Like screaming and everything. She's such a cute little brat.)


	9. Chapter 9

**-Chapter 9-**

I was cold. I was dirty. I had blisters and sore back. The hem of my skirt was caked with mud. My shoes were soaked through. The last frayed bit of my temper was fluttering raggedly in the icy wind that had been on my face the whole trip and I was starting to think that this province-wide runaround was just one huge joke. Not to mention I'd made an utter fool of myself when I ran across a monk on the road who just happened to be wearing a black robe. Gods, was that embarrassing! I'd panicked and tripped headlong into a bush, which had promptly dumped its load of snow straight down my back.

Not the best way to introduce yourself to a group of assassins.

On the positive side, my bedraggled appearance must have made the guards think that I was a beggar. Not a one seemed to care that I was breaking into an abandoned house. And I admit that I wasn't exactly subtle about it. When I found the house, the front door had been locked _and_ barred. And I was _cold_ and _tired._ Lucky for me, the lock was a simple one – otherwise I would have probably just let loose with a fire spell, to hell with the guards, at least the damned thing would have been _warm_.

I was a little worried about how I would get the door actually open until I tugged on the handle. Then I had to smother a laugh. The oh-so-obvious boards across the door were nailed to the door itself. Nothing was actually barred. Sneaky.

Inside, I took a moment to catch my breath and scrape the mud from my shoes. I had no idea what I was going to find in this house. Other than a group of assassins, that is. Traps, maybe. I poked the door to the basement cautiously. I mean, the place was right across from the chapel. I winced every time the old stairs creaked underfoot. There had to be some sort of protection – the Speaker had said as much. I looked around. But what had he meant when he said that the door was "obvious?" Assassins and Obvious were not things that seemed to work together. Besides, I didn't see -

Oh. Hole in the wall. Glowing red light. That was…obviously not a good sign.

Picking my way over the fallen stones, I peered around the corner. _Eep_. The door in front of me had to lead to the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. It could do nothing but. The thing was a good eight feet tall and covered with carvings of a skull, a hand, and some lady who was apparently stabbing people. Cheerful. I had no idea where the red light was coming from, and I was pretty sure that I didn't want to know, but it was blinding compared to the near-blackness of the rest of the basement.

"Oh…_that's_ subtle. One with the darkness, my _ass._"

I stretched out my hand to touch the glowing door. The – wood? – metal? – was ice cold under my fingers. If it was wood, it was heavy, dense, and ancient – worn smooth from hundreds of hands. The intricate carvings, however, were still sharp. I ran my fingers over them only to hiss in pain and yank my arm back. Sharp in more ways than one.

I stuck my bleeding fingertip in my mouth and scowled at the door. Gods, what was the thing made out of? I couldn't think of any wood that could be carved that sharply, and it sucked in the light too much for it to be iron. The only other thing I could think of was… "Oh my gods…It's _ebony_. The whole fetching door is carved from _ebony_." Until now, the most ebony that I'd ever seen in one place was in the little dagger that the Speaker had given me. The thought of an entire _door_…it almost made me dizzy. The thing must have cost tens – no, hundreds of thousands of septims for _just_ the ebony. As for the carvings, and whatever enchantments it held…

I tried to estimate the cost in my head, failed miserably, and let out a low, disbelieving whistle. Whatever else I was walking into here, I was certainly walking into money.

And I like money. Why? Because I like to eat. You don't think I joined the Thieves Guild or stayed at the brothel for my health, did you? Of course not. But it was better than starving.

I tried that once. I don't recommend it.

So…to get in, then. Was I supposed to knock, or… Knocking seemed _really_ inappropriate, but there were no door handles or anything. Finally, I settled on placing both hands against the door and giving it a tentative push. What's the worst that could have happened?

Well, yes, I suppose that it _could_ have sucked my soul out and feasted on it. Or burnt my hands clean off, yes. But it didn't, all right?

…You're not helping, you know that? I thought I told you to shut up and listen. I'm getting to the good part, here. Shush.

"_What is the Color of Night?"_

_Hoooooly_…the door apparently talked, too. I don't know why I thought so, but that ancient, echoing, raspy voice just sounded as though it belonged to the door itself. I'd never heard of an enchantment that made objects actually talk. It was amazing. It was fascinating.

It was…waiting for an answer. _Oh…Guar dung. _My mind went blank with a vengeance. The sudden pressure to really _think_ for the first time since I left the Thieves Guild was both terrifying and strangely exhilarating. _Think, Cla'nee! Think, think, think, think, think…! What did that Speaker say? Um…um…he - it's going to kill me, I know it! What did he say…patience…death…beauty…Think faster! Family…scared…punishment…_ _What was it, what _was _it? Ah -!_

"Ah…er…I…_SanguineMyBrother_." I blurted and held my breath.

For a single, heart-stopping instant _nothing_ happened. I seriously considered running. I'd be able to outrun a massive, volcanic glass door, right?

Why did I think that the answer was "no"?

With a grinding noise, the door slowly began to swing towards me. A blast of warm, slightly humid air hit my face. The raspy voice whispered, "_Welcome Home…"_

Home. Great. Lucky me.

I inched around the door, trying not to touch it again. The moment that my foot hit the stone behind it, though, it began to rumble shut. I had to perform a kind of skipping, twirling hop to get inside and out of its way. Apparently, the Dark Brotherhood wasn't very fond of giving people the chance to have second thoughts. But at least the door had given me some _warning_, unlike a certain sanity-deprived, black-cloaked, dagger-wielding _nutcase_ I could think of.

After it slammed shut, I spent a few minutes clinging to the rock wall beyond, trying to breathe without wheezing. This whole thing just kept getting better and better. First I want to kill the Madam. Then I kill the Nord. Then I almost kill myself with exhaustion. Then the Speaker tries to kill me. Then the fetching _door_ tries to kill me. The only thing I needed to make my day complete was to run into a vampire.

I hated vampires.

I squinted at the room beyond the little tunnel I was in. It was hard to see, what with the bright red light I was standing in, but I thought that I saw someone waiting. For me? Probably. Well, whoever it was, I'd already made a complete fool of myself. Might as well go say hello.

The someone turned out to be a female Argonian, one of the Lizard-Folk from the Black Swamp, and thankfully not vampiric. She wore tight-fitting, black leather armor that was – if I may say so – rather sexy.

What? It _was._ Most of the armor that I'd seen at that point in my life was either the same-old-same-old leather that the Thieves Guild members wore, the mass-produced armor of the Legion, or the "Look at me, I'm wearing something so gaudy that even Dibella's high-priced whores wouldn't be caught dead in it" armor that the Imperial Palace Guard paraded about in. The stuff that the Argonian wore was sleek, body-hugging, and honest-to-all-the-gods damn sexy in comparison. And it had to be Dark Brotherhood armor, or else I would have seen a whore in it at some point.

I'm not saying that it was…you know…whore-ish or anything. It was just…gods…_you _know. Ergh…you _don't_ know. Look. There are certain people that really like leather. I mean, _really_ like leather. On other people. And so, sometimes, we ended up having to wear it, and then…

You know what? Let's just drop this subject. Please.

_No, I am not blushing!_

_Anyway – _(you pervert) it didn't escape my notice that she was holding a bundle of leather that looked an awful lot like the leather she was wearing. _Another gift?_ I wondered. And a book too, for some reason. All of these gifts were really starting to make me uncomfortable.

The Argonian waited until I was out of the tunnel and in the Sanctuary proper to approach me. She held out a hand in greeting. "Welcome, welcome! I am Ocheeva, the manager of this Sanctuary." She studied me, green and purple face-scales glistening in the torchlight. Their sheen meant that she was still young for an Argonian. The shrewdness in her eyes reminded me of the Speaker. _Not_ reassuring, despite the friendly words. "So…You are our new sister." She suddenly smiled widely, revealing needle-sharp teeth. "The Night Mother does love her favored daughters, does she not?"

"The Night Mother?" I asked blankly. I tried to look around without really looking as though I was looking around. I didn't get too far, as you probably guessed. A few chairs, a couple of tables and bookshelves, a hallway and two huge doors were all I could see. Oh, and the enormous tapestries emblazoned with a huge black handprint. I also noticed a surprising lack of torches burning with a reddish flame, decapitated corpses, wickedly-sharp weaponry, or pools of blood.

There was, however, a plate of cookies.

Huh.

"The Night Mother is our mother. She is the bride of Sithis, and the Black Hand moves at her bidding."

"Sithis?" I was completely lost now. "Black Hand?"

Ocheeva gave me a pitying look. "Did Lucien tell you nothing, Sister?"

"N-no. Not really. He did…er…try to stab me, though."

She raised her brows at me. "Really."

"Um…yes. I may have…er…provoked him. A little. I was tired."

"Really," she repeated, looking amused. "Well, I think that it is only fair to tell you that Lucien does not _attempt_ to stab people. He does or he does not. The fact that you stand before me, breathing, tells that it was but a warning. Do not take it personally."

"Oh…" I muttered lamely. "Good."

"Although…I now know why it was that Lucien instructed me to give you this," she held up the book, "along with your armor."

"Th-That's _mine?_" My hands shook as she handed it to me. It really was mine. I had to admit, some part of my mind had been certain that it had nothing to do me. After all, I hadn't really done anyth –

Oh…that's right. Rufio. My insides suddenly felt hollow.

"After you try it on, come see me so that I may make sure that the fit is right. It probably is not." She smiled again, rather wryly this time. "Lucien may be a master of many things, but guessing a woman's measurements has always eluded him."

I found myself turning pink at the thought of another studying me closely enough to guess my measurements. And then I went pale at the thought of the _Speaker_ doing that. Granted, he had gotten a bit of an eyeful during that second night-time visit. I was used to sleeping in the nude – and you don't have to tell me that it was a _very_ bad time to _not_ break that habit from the brothel. I shuddered. There was something about the Speaker's eyes, now that I thought about it. Even during the first visit, when I was clothed…it was terrifying. Something in his gaze…it claimed. It demanded with absolute cold certainly that his demands _would_ be obeyed, no matter what they were. Even now, I felt it in the back of my mind. I remembered what he had said…_ My darkness. My newest Sister, you belong to the Brotherhood, and to me…_

I shuddered again. _No. I belong to myself. Not to some insane serial killer. And not to this Night Mother or Sithis either – whoever they are._

_Gods…I hope I'm right about that._

"What's the book for?" I asked, leafing through it curiously, pushing my darker thoughts from my mind. It wasn't a long book, maybe just a few dozen pages.

"It contains the laws of the Dark Brotherhood. Although, truly, you need only worry about the Tenets. The rest of the book is but explanation to be sure of your understanding. We are, after all, people who do not tend to obey laws. And sometimes we attempt to strain even the Tenets." She chuckled. "Some more than others."

I held up the book, pointing to a phrase on the first page. "'Wrath of Sithis'?"

"Something that I pray you never see."

"…Ah." I closed the book with a snap. "So…er…what now?"

"Now I pass you off to Vicente. He trains the newest members, and so you shall be his charge for now. He shall give you your contracts." She turned, and pointed down the hallway in front of me. "His rooms are down there, past my own. Oh, and Sister…?"

"Wha…yes?"

"Vicente has been here the longest of us all. When you meet him, I ask that you be polite."

"I – I'll try." It was hard for me to be polite when I was scared.

"Then that is all I can hope for." She nodded at me and left me standing alone in the Sanctuary, a little bundle of nerves and adrenaline. My hands clutched reflexively at the armor I held. Was I supposed to put it on now? But where would I change clothes? Where did I sleep? Was I supposed to talk to this Vicente person before all that? Was I expected to take a contract right away?

I realized that I was gnawing nervously at my fingernails and quickly pulled my hand away from my mouth. _Gods...keep your head on straight, you stupid little girl. Down the hall. That's it. Walk. Nothing's going to jump out of the darkness and - _

"Hey!" said a great, booming voice, "You're cuter than I thought you'd be!"

"_Eep!" _I clutched the new armor to my chest and looked up. And up. And up. A _huge_ Orc in full armor grinned down at me. I blinked. The axe he had on his back was bigger than I was. In fact, I was pretty sure that the gauntlets he wore were bigger than I was. I said the first thing that came to mind.

"Holy hells, you're tall."

He grinned even wider, "Thanks! Can I hug you?"

_Eep._ "N-no…rather not…" I was fond of my ribs, after all. A bit attached to my spine being in one piece as well.

"Awww…" he leaned down and tried for a confidential whisper. Unfortunately, his voice was as big as the rest of him and the best he could manage was a less-ground-shaking rumble. "I really shouldn't, anyway. Ocheeva doesn't want me to after I broke the last Murderer. You pale-skinned ones are delicate!"

"_Broke?_" I squeaked.

A Wood Elf walked up behind him and smacked him across the back of his skull. "Behave, you! You're scaring her." She smiled gently at me. I tried a wobbly smile back, thankful to see a less threatening figure. "I'm Telaendril. This lug here is Gogron. Despite appearances, he doesn't bite."

"Whaddya mean I don't bite? Didn't I just -"

She smacked him again, cheeks faintly pink. "You just ignore everything he says, Sweetie."

"Okay?" I squeaked again. Gods…were they flirting? I looked around for an escape. "Um…I don't really know where I'm going."

"No worries, sweetie. This place is pretty small. Vicente, right?" I nodded. "Just go straight down to the end of the hall. Don't be startled by him. He's a fantastic teacher."

"Startled?" Had I been less terrified, I would have found it funny that my whole vocabulary seemed to have shrunk to one word questions – usually whimpered ones. I didn't get an answer, anyway. The Orc and the Bosmer were already walking away, talking about being sneaky. A half-hysterical giggle tried to worm its way out of my throat. Sneaky? An _Orc?_ Who ever heard of such a thing?

This was the strangest bunch of assassins _ever._

The doors at the end of the hall were huge, though not quite as big as the ebony one. Torchlight trickled out from underneath, looking welcome in the gloom that shrouded the area. I tugged timidly on one of the doors' rings, only to find out that they were really, really heavy and really, really didn't want to move. I pulled a little harder. No go.

Finally, I muttered something unkind about overly-large doors and compensation, dug my heels in and yanked. It opened up enough for me to slip my tiny frame through the crack and thankfully did not try to slam itself on my heels.

Inside, a slim man sat at a table, reading. He looked pretty old, but his long hair was still brown – not the slightest hint of gray. His clothing looked a little old-fashioned and worn as well, but still impeccably kept. All-in-all, he gave me the impression of a tall, well-dressed twig. _He's_ _going to be training me? _I thought._ He looks like he would snap in a stiff breeze!_

Hesitantly, I cleared my throat and he looked up, closing his book on his finger. "I am sorry, Sister. Is the door sticking again?"

He smiled at me. I saw fangs. I panicked.

"Come now. There is no need to plaster yourself against the door on my account." His accent was that of High Rock, much thicker than mine, with a dry humor beneath the clipped words.

I bit my lip, remembering Ocheeva's instructions to be polite. I had no idea if he'd bite me if I weren't, but I decided to play it safe. "G-greetings, um…B-Brother…um…I'm Cla'nee."

One pale eyebrow arched. "My dear Sister, you also happen to be scared out of your mind."

"I – Y-you're a _vampire_!"

"I am aware of that fact." He reached a hand out towards me.

I whimpered, ducked away from his arm and tripped over a stone slab in the corner. A stone slab with a pillow, of all things. The book and armor flew out of my arms. "Ow…" I whimpered again, trying to rub my hip and shin at the same time. A shadow fell over me and I looked up to see Vicente tapping his foot against the floor.

"I can see that I have my work cut out for me, Sister. Do you always react that way when someone attempts to shake your hand?"

"Oh." I said, and blushed. "I – I thought…"

"I know exactly what you thought. Please, there is no need to be alarmed. After three hundred years, one learns how to control a vampire's thirst. All it requires is a little discipline. Now then," he held out his hand to me again. Trembling, I accepted it and he lifted me effortlessly to my feet. "I expect that Ocheeva directed you to speak to me, yes?"

I nodded mutely.

"Good. Now, let us attempt to go about this as civilized beings. I am Vicente Valtieri, and I am in charge of all of our new family members. I shall be training you and giving you your contracts until you are skilled enough to work directly for Ocheeva or even the Black Hand." He smiled gently. "I hope that you will get over your fear of me shortly. It shall make training quite a lot easier."

"I'm not afraid…"

He tapped his ear. "I can hear your pulse racing, Sister. As I said earlier, you are scared out of your mind. I promise you, in my two centuries in this Sanctuary, I have never bitten a family member," his grin widened slightly, "unless, of course, they asked me to."

I swallowed and tried to force my heart to slow down to a purr. "A-all right."

"Would you like me to show you around the Sanctuary? Most of our new family members are a little overwhelmed at first. And then perhaps we can get you food and a bath. Would that be agreeable?"

My ears pricked up at the mention of food. I was down to my last handful of septims, and I hadn't eaten yet today. A bath, too… I wriggled my still-damp toes in my muddy shoes. _Okay, to hell with being scared. I want food and clean. Scared later. _Trying to not sound too pitiable, I said, "Please?"

He chuckled and pulled the door open with one hand. "After you, Sister. I will make the tour a short one. As you can see, this is my room – you may come to visit at any time. As you may have guessed, I rarely sleep."

"Ha ha." I said uncomfortably.

"You will have passed Ocheeva's room on your way here. She – "

Just then, a shout echoed down the hallway, "She's my age? Really? Where is she? I want to meet her!"

"Oh dear." Vicente's lips quirked up in a smile. "I do believe that you are about to be tackled. She hasn't been this happy since I finally promoted her."

"Who? Happy? …wait. I'm about to be _what?_"

The sound of running feet reached my ears, accompanied by a running commentary. "This is so wonderful I'm stuck in here with Vicente and Gogron and Mr. Grumpy-whiskers and everyone else but no one I can talk to and you're finally here and – _Mmmph!_"

A little blur ran smack into Vicente's outstretched hand – conveniently held at about mouth level. The impact made her feet shoot out from under her, and Vicente brought his other hand around to catch her before she hit the floor.

I blinked and resisted the urge to applaud.

"This," Vicente gestured at the girl, "is Antoinetta. I believe that she is happy to meet you."

"Can I hug her? Vicente, let me go! I can't believe you're my age, Ocheeva and Telaendril are so _boring_, you're interesting, right? Let me _go_! So do you stab people or… Ooh! Maybe you shoot them? I like poison, myself. Isn't it neat how they twitch all over?" Antoinetta was blonde, blue-eyed, and possessed of more demented energy than I had thought possible for one person to contain. I hadn't been this utterly speechless since the time that an Imperial brought a goat into the brothel and insisted on a threesome. And this time I couldn't shriek and shove it off a pier.

"Uh…hi? I – _eephf!_" I squealed as she squirmed out of Vicente's grip (or rather, twisted herself around enough that the vampire was forced to release her before she broke something), flung her arms around me and squeezed.

"You're even a Breton like me! This is so exciting! Matthieu's the only other one here – well, except for Vicente, but he doesn't count with the fangs and all – and he's mean to me! Matthieu, I mean, not Vicente. Vicente's nice, except when he – _Mmmmmph!"_

Vicente's hand snaked around to cover Antoinetta's mouth again. "Except when I am forced to gag her for the sake of my own nerves. May I ask that you calm down, Sister?"

"_Mmointy-mmoophed masmmrd." _

"Language," he said mildly, his eyes twinkling.

Antoinetta launched into a muffled diatribe of what exactly she planned to do to him for covering her mouth. I only made out about half of the words, but what I _could_ understand made me want to back away slowly. Except she was still hugging me.

Vicente saw the expression on my face and shrugged. "She doesn't mean it. You will get used to her soon, I hope, since she has taken a liking to you." He paused, and raised an eyebrow at the blonde girl. "Antoinetta, do stop biting me."

_"Rrrrr…"_

Just what I wanted. A cute, little, blonde attack dog. One that _still_ had me in a death grip. Add to that a vampiric teacher and an Orc assassin, a million phrases and names that I just didn't get, the fact that everyone here killed people for a living… And here I thought that the _Speaker_ was insane. They all were!

What had I gotten myself into?

* * *

_(A/N: I love Antoinetta. I love her so much. She'll calm down eventually. Maybe. She's just so perky and cute and totally raving mad in my mind.)_


	10. Chapter 10

**- Chapter 10 -**

"I'm really happy to meet you, I won't hug you again without asking, and I'm really sorry about your hand," Antoinetta dutifully recited under Vicente's watchful eye before tearing up again. "I swear that I didn't mean to! I really thought that I'd fixed that!"

"No problem…" I flexed my fingers cautiously, having just learned that the Dark Brotherhood armor also contained innumerable small pockets. Most of Antoinetta's held really sharp daggers. One of them had a hole in the bottom. Did I mention that she liked her daggers sharp? I'd tried to escape from her hug and ended up slicing a finger almost to the bone. Good thing for me that I had a little of my reserves left so that I could heal it up. Antoinetta and Vicente both offered to help, but…I wasn't sure I wanted either of them to touch me any more than absolutely necessary.

"I'll make it up to you! I will! Um…um…" her face lit up. "I'll show you around and introduce you to people!"

"Oh, no, you don't have to, I – _eyaaah! Arm!"_

"Ocheeva sleeps there, since she's sorta in charge when Lucien isn't around. She's bossy, but she's nice! Oh, and I snuck in there once while she was sleeping, and she has the _funniest_ book. It's written by a famous author, and it's a play, and it's about a maid," she dropped her voice to a whisper, "and there's a lot of stuff about _sex_ in it!"

"Er…Yes, I've read it." A lot. What? It's hilarious. I'd love to meet the author one day. Don't give me that look. If you read it, you'd laugh, too. "Can I have my arm back?" I frowned a little. What was that weird creaking noise?

"And here's the common area! You can sit in here and read books an –"

"_EEEEK!"_ My nerves, already stretched wire-taut, snapped when I came face to skull with a skeleton. It rattled its jaw and waved an axe vaguely in my direction. To my embarrassment, I screamed like a child and clung to Antoinetta. "Sk-sk-sk…"

"Oh, the guardian! He's okay. He's just checking you out." Antoinetta rapped it sharply on the side of the skull. "Bonehead! She's…one…of…us…No…kill," she said slowly, enunciating every word clearly. It rattled again and slowly dragged itself off. She grinned at me. "See? No problem."

"She refers to the guardian as 'Bonehead,' by the way." Vicente walked up behind us, looking amused. "An apt, if somewhat tactless name."

"Kind of like how I call _him_," Antoinetta jabbed a thumb at Vicente, "a "Pointy-Toothed Bastard.'"

"Equally tactless, and less apt. I am almost positive that my parents were married."

"Which is more than you can say for mine!" Antoinetta chirped, cheerfully unembarrassed. "Anyway, Bonehead shouldn't bother you again. Most of the time, he just wanders around here and stares at the wall a lot. Beats me why we have a guardian, anyway – Lucien seems to like them, at least. I think he collects them in that moldy old fort of his."

I tried to make my hands let go of Antoinetta's arm, but to no avail. Some primal part of me wasn't buying the "he's okay" bit. Vicente raised his eyebrows at me and I scowled. Damned bloodsucker probably heard my heart racing again.

"Frightened?"

"Fine. I'm fine." I finally pulled back from Antoinetta and took a deep breath. _I'm fine. Just embarrassed. That's all._ "Let's just keep going."

He patted me on the shoulder. "Very well. But there is no need to be afraid of anyone or anything in - "

"_I said I was fine, dammit! Don't touch me!_" I yanked myself away, slamming my elbow hard against one of the pillars. The pain of the impact shot all the way up my elbow and I felt my sleeve and skin shred against the rough stone. I bit my lip to keep from shrieking in frustration. Antoinetta stared at me with wide eyes. When I glared at her, she recoiled slightly and brought her arms up over her chest. For the second time that day, the bottom dropped out of my stomach.

_Oh, Gods. She looks just like one of the girls after they've been hit by a customer._

That realization shocked me out of my tantrum. I half-leaned, half-fell against the pillar with a thump, letting out a long breath. "I'm…I'm…"

"You are exhausted, frightened, and you need to realize that we truly mean you no harm." He shrugged. "Would it help if I told you that covered in mud as you are, you do not look the least appetizing?"

Antoinetta started to giggle. "You do look pretty icky!"

I relaxed a little, suddenly glad for her…for some reason. "If I look half as bad as I feel, I'll bet that I do."

Vicente gave me an approving look as Antoinetta giggled harder. "Good. Now then, Antoinetta, would you go fetch a potion for our sister? She looks far too tired to heal herself again." The girl nodded eagerly and took off. Vicente shook his head, a fond smile on his face. "She is aggravating, but I find it difficult to stay angry with her for very long. She had a…difficult life before she came to us. I think you could see that."

I nodded, and stared at the floor. "I – I didn't mean to scare her. I just…" I rubbed my eyes. "I didn't expect that. Hell, I didn't expect any of this."

"As I said, you are exhausted and frightened – mostly of me. Would it help if I returned to my chambers and allowed Antoinetta to finish showing you around?"

I opened my mouth to take him up on his offer, but thought better of it. If I was going to be reporting to him, I had better try and get used to him, right? I didn't want another hate-hate relationship like I had with the Madam. That was the last thing I needed, especially with a vampire. Who knew what might send him over the edge? As long as he stayed civilized, so would I. "Actually…no. Antoinetta's a little too…er…"

"Excitable? Enthusiastic?"

"I was going to say overwhelming, but that works too, I guess."

He laughed. "Very well then. I shall continue onwards." He gestured at my elbow. "And if I may point out…you've bled in front of me twice today, and I have yet to go for your throat."

I rolled my eyes. "All right, all right, I get it. You don't bite tender young things."

His smile went positively predatory. "The ones who live in this Sanctuary, at least."

I turned pink and tried very hard to not dwell on the images that were trying to bubble up in my brain. Luckily for me, that was when Antoinetta came running back towards us, waving a glass vial over her head. "Got it! I had to promise Mr. Grumpy-whiskers that I'd clean up after Schemer for a month, but I got it!"

Anticipating my questions, Vicente said, "'Mr. Grumpy-whiskers is M'raaj-dar, our mage. Schemer is something of a Sanctuary pet. That is his real name, by the way."

"Schemer's a good name," Antoinetta insisted, shoving the bottle into my hands.

"I can't wait to find out what my nickname's going to be," I commented as I sipped the potion. It was a good, strong one and fresh too. _Their mage must be pretty talented. I wonder if he'll teach me._

"Oh, I don't give _everyone_ nicknames." She pulled a face at Vicente and giggled. "Just the ones that deserve it. Wait'll he starts training you, you'll see!"

Vicente chuckled quietly. "We shall worry about that later. For now, I suggest that you hurry so that she can settle in. Remember, she walked quite a ways to come to us."

"All right, all right." Antoinetta pointed to her left. "That's the training room. It's not too interesting after a while. Vicente makes me spend _hours_ in there, hitting those dummies. And wood's just not as fun as the real thing. They don't _bleed_, or _scream_ or…" Vicente cleared his throat and she rolled her eyes. "All _right._ Sithis. The other door goes to where we sleep and eat. I'll show you that first. C'mon!"

Food and a bed sounded so good to me right then. I followed her without any hesitation.

"Have a cookie!" Antoinetta pointed at the plate as she skipped (yes, skipped) past. "I made them!"

Hungry as I was, I automatically started reaching for one – only to find my wrist in a gentle, vampiric grip. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. "Before you partake…are you allergic to flour, eggs, strawberries, blackberries, or…" he sniffed delicately, "or rat meat and powdered ogre's teeth?"

"Ogre's teeth…?" I eased my hand backwards, out of Vicente's grip and well away from the cookies. Now that I looked at them more closely, they appeared to have a disturbing…lumpiness…to them. "Er…yes. Very allergic. Yes."

"Smart girl. We shall just let Gogron eat them, then." I looked at him askance, and he lowered his voice with a chuckle. "Antionetta unfortunately enjoys…experimenting when she cooks; and to be entirely honest, Gogron would like as not eat zombie flesh if you were to put it out on a table. The system of the Orcish people is an incredible thing."

Having been on the somewhat interesting end of an Orcish system more times than I cared to recall, I decided to not say anything. I frowned inwardly. Were these people going to care that I was – that I _used_ to be a whore? They were all killers, so they probably wouldn't be too judgmental, right?

Right?

"Cla'nee!" Antoinetta came running down the hall, dragging a very upset-looking Khajiit behind her. And if anyone can look upset, it's a Khajiit. His ears were flat against his skull, his tail was lashing back and forth, and I was almost certain that his fur was slightly fluffed in annoyance. _Ah. This must be "Mr. Grumpy-whiskers." No…don't laugh. Laughing at mages is always bad._ "This is M'raaj-dar, he's happy to meet you!"

Could have fooled me. I held out my hand to him. "Er…hello."

He wrinkled his nose and glared at me. "You smell like you've been rolling in your own filth."

"_What?_" I yanked my hand back. "Says the Khajiit!"

"Yes," he said, his voice dripping with dislike, "says the Khajiit." He looked over my shoulder. "We do _not_ need a new family member, Vicente. Look at her. No muscle. No skill. No - "

"That is not our decision to make, M'raaj-dar. If you wish, you could take it up with our Speaker…" Vicente let the soft words trail off.

The Khajiit made a noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a growl and a hiss. I saw a gentle shudder pass through him. "No need. You've made your point. Lucien can have his new toy." His eyes flicked back to me, narrowing to thin, amber slits. "But I don't have to like her."

I silently resolved right then that no one here would ever find out who I used to be. I'm not a toy!" I yelled as he stalked away. He didn't turn around. "I'm no one's toy!"

Vicente sighed. "Do not rise to his bait, Sister."

"Why not?"

"He started it!"

Antoinetta and I looked at each other and began to giggle. The vampire chuckled. "Sithis save me, but they're making alliances. I shall never be able to sleep again."

_Sleep? _Curiosity overcame nerves, and I asked, "Vampires sleep?"

"Rarely," he gave an offhand shrug, "but yes."

"Why only rarely? Does it have to do with that whole 'catching on fire in broad daylight and only going out at night' thing?"

He chuckled again, then sobered. "No, it is more out of choice. There are…nightmares, you see. But come – there are still two Brothers for you to meet."

The two Brothers in question were standing in the entrance of a room that was half-dormitory, half-kitchen. Well, less a kitchen and more a couple of tables and a few cupboards. And a pretty attractive wine rack. The rack was mostly full, which either meant that most of the assassins didn't drink much (more for me), or they had a steady supply from somewhere (still more for me). Not that I had a drinking habit. It was just…in this line of work, I had a suspicion that I might decide to get a start on one.

An Argonian, and…hmmm. He was too slender to be an Imperial, so he was probably the other Breton that Antoinetta had mentioned. The "mean" one. He was delicate, even for a Breton, and a little too…intense…to be truly good-looking. He didn't look like he slept a lot. Or at all.

I tried to sneak a look at his mouth to make sure he didn't have fangs before I reached for his proffered hand.

"And so…you are our new sister, Cla'nee." The Breton took my hand in his and brushed his lips across my knuckles. "A pleasure. I am Mathieu Bellamont. I wait in breathless anticipation to see your…skills. Our dear Speaker spoke highly of them. I, for one, have never failed a contract," he smiled gently when Antoinetta stuck her tongue out at him, "and I would greatly enjoy a Dark Sibling who shares my talent."

"Er…" I found myself utterly speechless and for very good reason. Mathieu was charming, clearly talented, not exactly handsome, but he had a certain charisma…and yet I found myself somehow vaguely repulsed by him. Maybe it was the look in his eyes, or the clamminess of his hands, but I did not like him. And I didn't quite know why.

"Of course, I wouldn't be surprised if you fail to live up to the standard that I set. Most cannot."

Ah…that was why. He was a selfish, egotistical, stuck-up, little prick. Good to know.

The Argonian offered his hand to me as well. I disengaged my fingers from Mathieu and gingerly accepted. He seemed to sense my discomfort, and held my hand so lightly that his claws barely dented my skin. "Sister. I am Teinaava, and I am honored to welcome you to our Family."

"I'm honored to be here," I lied.

"He's Ocheeva's brother," Antoinetta told me, obviously pleased to be the one to impart that bit of information. "Her real, _real_ brother. They're twins!"

"Twins?" I asked incredulously. "I've never heard of Argonian twins. How…er…I mean…"

"We were hatched of the same egg. Twins. Eggmates. It is very rare, yes, but Sithis was pleased to have us born together under His Shadow."

"Oh. I see." I really didn't. Still confused, I tried to figure out how that would actually work as Antoinetta pushed me past the two men and into the room. As she steered me towards the beds, I felt my eyelids start to droop at the sight of them. _Bed. Sleep. Want. _At least…I did, until…

"A rat." I stared down at one of the beds, startled out of my little stupor. "There is a gigantic, fetching _rat_ curled up on the bed."

The rat blinked beady little eyes at me. And then it yawned, revealing inch-long, yellow teeth. I made a small noise in the back of my throat and backpedaled a few steps.

"That's Schemer," Antoinetta informed me. "He doesn't bite. Much."

"Please tell me that he's housetrained." Schemer and I eyed each other. I'd seen bigger rats. The rats in the sewers of the Imperial City were at least half again his size. But still…this one seemed a little more well-fed and brawny. He also didn't seem too keen on letting me get near_ his_ bed – and that was just fine with me.

Antoinetta was already pulling me over to the other half of the room, "And here's where we eat. I cook sometimes!"

"You didn't answer my question. Is the rat housetrained or not?"

Unfortunately, the girl was in her own little world now. "Do you like garlic?"

If I didn't know any better, I could have sworn that I heard Vicente make a gagging noise in the back of his throat.

The rest of the tour passed in a blur. Seeing the beds had reminded something in me that I was exhausted – so exhausted that sleeping in a room with a half-dozen murderers didn't seem so bad. At one point, Vicente put a half-loaf of bread in my hand. I nibbled at it automatically. I was so tired that Antoinetta's rambling about how Cheydinhal's close to Morrowind, so there are some hot springs here too, wasn't it funny that we got them and not the Count, they smell funny sometimes but it's so worth it for getting blood out of clothing, Vicente why are you rolling your eyes at me – well, it went in one ear and out the other.

Vicente seemed to take pity on me after I tripped over the edge of a carpet, barely keeping my balance. "Sister, why don't you take a bath and get some sleep, and I will give you your contract in the morning?"

Blinking up at him, I croaked out, "Yes. Please."

"Antoinetta," he beckoned the girl over. She hovered obediently at his elbow, eager face turned to him. "Will you take care of Cla'nee? _Gently_."

She took my hand and smiled at me. "Yes, sir. I'll take good care of her. I promise."


	11. Chapter 11

**-Chapter 11-  
**

It was really surprising how well I slept that first night in the Sanctuary. Thinking about it, though, I suppose that it made sense. The walk to get there had been exhausting, and when I finally sat down…I'd had to use every last bit of my internal reserves to heal up the broken blisters before I could even think about taking off my shoes. The rough insides against my raw skin was excruciating and the thought of any more friction was even worse.

Antoinetta had helped me bathe my exhausted body – and a good thing too. Left on my own, I probably would have fallen asleep and drowned. Gogron, with a huge grin plastered all over his face, offered to help as well. That sent Antoinetta into some kind of protective-possessive tantrum which would have been cute if it weren't so scary. I mean, I'd only known her for a couple of hours and I didn't relish the idea of having her as a stalker.

I have to admit that she was the only one in the whole sanctuary (other than me) who I had trouble picturing in the role of a crazed killer. Crazed, yes. Oh good Gods yes. But not a killer. She was just too…cute.

She even gave me her bed and a long shirt to sleep in, standing guard at the entrance of the room as I changed. Just before I drifted off, she bundled up my muddy clothing and promised to wash it for me. She did, too. The next morning found my clothes folded up at the end of the bed – still a little stained, but clean and dry. The armor that Ocheeva had given me was there as well.

I wriggled my aching toes. I wanted to try on my new armor, but my muscles were sore enough that I decided not to. The last thing I needed was to try and struggle into new leather.

"You're awake! It's past noon! Vicente wants to give you your contract!"

All right, never mind. A _contract_ was the last thing I needed. "Right now?"

"Mmm…" Antoinetta screwed up her face. "Not _right now_, right now. He probably wants you to put clothes on first."

"Nice of him." Gingerly, I climbed out of bed and began to dress. Antoinetta watched me with unnerving intensity. Forcing myself not to snap or glare at the girl, I asked, "What?"

"You have pretty hair. I hope that they let you keep it." She pointed at her own blonde locks. "Vicente said that my hair was too bright, so I had to cut most of it off. It didn't fit well under the hood before. But your hair is dark, so it'll probably be okay."

It had better be. No way was I cutting my hair, not for anyone. I liked my hair. I tugged nervously at it. "If I don't want to, I won't be forced to, right?"

She looked at me as though I were mad. "Of _course_ you have to. That's a Tenet. Always obey an order from a superior. That means Vicente, Ocheeva and Lucien. _Especially_ Lucien."

"Because he's the Speaker? What's a Speaker, anyway?"

Antoinetta held up her hand, fingers outstretched. "They're part of the Black Hand. The ones in charge of everything. There are four Speakers," here she wiggled her fingers, "and the Listener," she wiggled her thumb. "The Listener is the one who talks to the Night Mother, then he tells the Speakers what to do, and then they tell us!"

"The Night Mother is what?"

"Not what, who. I think." She made a face. "I don't really know." She brightened. "But I want to be like her. Sithis already talks to me, you know. He whispers in my ear and tells me what to do."

What do you say to that? I didn't even know what a Sithis was, though I was starting to suspect that he was some kind of Dark Brotherhood god. So Antoinetta listened to invisible bogymen. All right. Not too much of a surprise. But what do I say to that? I change the subject, that's what.

"So Vicente wants to see me, you said?"

"Oh, yes! He's in his room."

I thanked her and fled.

Vicente was once again silently reading at the table in his room. A plate of food and two mugs sat before him. I caught the scent of fresh-cooked meat and my mouth began to water. I walked in (lucky me, the door was open this time) and asked, "Did you want to see me?"

"Ah, yes. But first, would you care to join me for your breakfast, sister?" I know that you know the first thought that ran through my mind at that. Vicente began to laugh. "Sister, please! I speak of normal food." He gestured at the plate before him. "This is for you – I assume that you are quite hungry by now."

I was. I really, really was. "A-all right." I sat down across from him and tried a bite. It was wonderful. I almost whimpered from sheer happiness. "Did you make this?"

"Yes. One might say that I have had the time to perfect certain skills. Is it to your liking?"

_Gods, yes._ I nodded, mouth full.

"Good. I am glad. Now then, are you ready for your first contract?"

I set down my fork and bit my lip. Here it was. They didn't waste any time here. "I think I am. But…shouldn't I get some kind of…oh, I don't know…_training_ before you send me out?"

He smiled gently. "It is my policy to assign all new family members one contract before I begin their training. It helps me to learn their skills and to see what they can do. Should you be already skilled, it shall save us both quite a lot of time."

"Oh. But how will you know?"

"Sister, you will soon learn that we shall know quite a lot. The eye of the Night Mother is upon you."

Creepy_._ Very, very _creepy._ I fidgeted in my seat. "That's…um…really…"

The smile became an amused smirk. "Creepy?"

"…exactly the word I had in mind." Which didn't make me feel any better at _all._

"Well, then." He pulled out a few pieces of paper and spread them out on the table in front of him. "Tell me, Sister…what kind of contract do you think you can handle? Be honest about your abilities."

Now, if I was going to be honest about my abilities, I'd have asked for someone who was already dead. At the hardest, maybe a one-legged, blind beggar who liked to limp around lonely cliffsides. That would have been the smart thing to do. Whoever thinks that I actually listened to my common sense rather than my pride, feel free to speak up now.

That sound you hear is chirping crickets, by the way.

"Um…what kind of contract do you usually give to a new sister?"

Vicente eyed me. Let me tell you, when a vampire is eyeing you…"transparent" is a good word to describe how you feel. "Tasty" is another word, but I was pretty sure I wasn't being sized up as a potential snack. This time.

Picking up one of the pieces of paper between two slender fingers, he held it up in front of my face. "You have some training, I understand. However, I would not give you a contract that could place you under the eye of the City Watch. Despite your time in the Thieves Guild, it is still too risky. No, I think that this one will do. The target is a bandit woman by the name of Jena. She has been seen around Cheydinhal recently, so you will not have to travel far to find her."

"Thank Mara for that."

He looked a little bemused at my choice of words. "Perhaps. Now then, would you like some advice before you begin?"

"I – I'd like some idea of what I'm supposed to be doing, actually. I'm a little lost."

"It is quite simple. You read your contract, you use that information to find your target, and then you dispatch them. Sometimes, a client will request a specific method of death, but in this case you are free to choose whatever you like. As for more specific advice, I suggest that you do not wear your armor unless you are certain that you can find this bandit before she can find you. Most of those who live in a city, and even the guards, would not recognize our armor should it bite them. However, those who live closer to the darker side of things will. Bandits, Daedric worshippers, Necromancers – they are more often targets or temporary allies, thus they know what to look for."

I nodded. _Don't wear the armor that probably doesn't fit me. I can do that._

"You should try to find this bandit woman tonight. Such people move often, so unless you know how to track…?" he trailed off, and I shook my head. "Very well, then. Leave under the cover of night. The guards will not bother you, as it has been…suggested that they turn a blind eye to certain things. Bt it will be easier for you to find the bandit after dark."

"It will?"

"You will see the light of any fire she may start from quite a distance. It will save you hours of wandering about in the woods. You will probably not be able to shoot her in the night, though, so bring a good blade. If you're lucky, then she will be asleep, and you can slit her throat at your leisure."

It's really awful to be so hungry, and at the same time to feel _so_ much like not eating. Forcing myself to eat another bite anyway, I asked, "And what if I'm not so lucky?"

"Either hide until she does go to sleep, or gain her trust somehow. She is likely stronger than you, so you may not win a straight fight. Take any advantage that you can in order to kill her. Sithis will be with you, but do not rely on His strength when you can still rely on your own."

There was that Sithis again. _The Wrath of Sithis…by Sithis…Sithis speaks to me…_ The more I heard about Sithis, the less I really wanted to know what he or she was. Given my luck, _I'd_ start hearing voices by the end of the week. "All right…let me see if I've got this. I have to walk around in the snow, in the middle of the night, until I find this bandit Jena person, and then I have to try and kill her?"

"Essentially. Oh, and try to not get yourself killed as well."

"Not getting killed is actually at the top of my list."

Vicente let out a brief chuckle. "You would be surprised at how often it isn't."

The wait until nightfall wasn't nearly as long as I would have liked it to be. The mix of nerves and…well, more nerves made the hours rush by. All too soon, Vicente told me that the sun had gone down. I didn't ask how he knew, being underground and all. It was probably one of those vampire things. After all, a vampire wouldn't live too long if they had to keep sticking their heads outside to see if it was dark.

I'd taken my alchemy equipment out of my pack, figuring it was too heavy to lug around. Unfortunately, the table in the kitchen was the only place for me to put it. Ocheeva promised that she'd get me a personal chest to keep things in, just like the others had. I got the feeling that she was waiting to see if I'd survive this contract. After all, there was no reason to waste money.

As I slung my pack over my shoulder, I felt the Speaker's dagger smack against my hip. I wondered if I ought to take it out, too. Or maybe even use it. I flipped my pack open and stared at it, nestled down in the bottom amidst herbs and potions. A perfect instrument of death in the middle of all of my tools of healing. I reached down and ran a finger over the sheath. _I should use it. It's better than mine._ But it still didn't feel like the right time to use it. As long as it stayed in its sheath, I felt like I hadn't completely accepted it. And that I still belonged to myself.

_Heh. You're such an idiot sometimes, little girl. One of these days you'll learn that those little symbols and rules that you make up really mean nothing. But, by all means, keep pretending if it makes you feel better. After all, that whole name thing's worked so far._

I hated it when my inner voices had a good point. I decided to ignore them. My little dagger would serve just fine. So there.

Yes, I was arguing with myself. So what? I won, didn't I?

"Wait a minute, Sister!" I turned to see Gogron lounging in a chair in the corner of the common room. Telaendril stood behind him with a mug in one hand and a bottle of mead in the other. He tossed something at me. "Here, catch!"

I reached out and grabbed a torch out of the air. I raised a quizzical eyebrow at Gogron.

"You'll need it, the way it's looking out there. Too snowy for a distance shot. Lucky you, you get to see your kill face-to-face." He grinned widely. "Make sure you put in a shot for old Gogron!"

"It's snowing?" I asked in dismay. Now I could see the little drops of water in Telaendril's hair. She must have just been outside. Probably buying that mead, since I didn't remember any in the wine rack. And trust me, I'd been staring at that wine rack a lot today.

"Only a little, but you know how that can mess with a clean shot." He seemed to notice for the first time that I wasn't carrying a bow, just my little dagger. "Ah, I see you like them up close and personal! Good for you! Heard that you killed your last one with your bare hands. Now that would have been a sight to see. Would have been better if it had been another girl like you, if you know what I mean."

Unfortunately, I did. So did Telaendril. She rolled her eyes and dumped the contents of her mug over Gogron's head. He just licked his lips and commented on the taste, obviously used to such treatment. Yep. Flirting.

…Ew. I wasn't really one to talk, but…ew.

I started towards the big door, stopped, and poked my head back into the common room. "I can go out this way, right? It won't try to close on my foot again, right?"

"As long as you don't dawdle, sweetie. Oh, and you don't have to give it the password again – it seems to remember you after the first time." Telaendril waved. "Good luck!"

Following her advice, I didn't dawdle this time. I sort of ran for my life instead. But I still had all of my toes, so the temporary loss of dignity was worth it. Upstairs, I dusted off one of the cracked windows of the house and peered through, waiting until the street looked empty. Then I snuck outside.

It _was_ snowing. Dammit.

I pulled my cloak tightly around me and glanced up at the clouds. You couldn't even see the moons thorough them. I scowled, and immediately got a snowflake in my eye.

As Vicente said, the guards at the town gate didn't even ask where I was going. They just nodded at me and went back to staring straight ahead. _How strange,_ I thought. Then I realized that they were probably used to seeing people come and go in the dead of night. Which in itself was awfully strange. To be honest, it seemed to me a pretty sloppy way of running things, having a secret Sanctuary in the middle of a bustling town. But then, I wasn't the Speaker, or the Black Hand, or whatever, so it wasn't my say.

The 'persuasion 'Vicente talked about was probably a matter of blackmail, I decided. Or bribery. Spend enough time in a brothel, and you'll learn about those. Guards being paid to look the other way about certain things. Like not having a Temple-trained healer, for one. And it was sometimes a good way to pick up some extra coin – either from a customer who didn't want anyone to know what they'd been up to, or sometimes a streetear would come looking for their information. A girl who kept her eyes and ears open could profit from both.

Once outside the gate, I lit my torch and gave the road a dubious look. After the last few days, I really hated the sight of those cobblestones and that beaten-down dirt. And I really, really was starting to rethink my opinion of snow. Especially since it was now really, really, really windy.

Dammit.

A few steps and a good gust later found me cursing and wishing that I'd worn the new armor after all. Skirts, you see, are drafty. My feet and ankles were already going numb, and pretty soon other things were going to follow their example.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

I had no idea how much time I spent walking down the road in that snow. It couldn't have been more than an hour, but the cold and the dark made it seem like forever. Every time a gust of wind came up, I'd bite my lip and keep a close eye on my torch, praying that this wouldn't be the gust to blow it out. I resolved that if I lived through this, I was either buying myself pants, or refusing to take another contract at _least_ until Mid Year. At least the wind was at my back, though the prospect of returning home was looking less and less appealing.

I stopped in my tracks for a moment. What did I mean, "_home?_" _Ugh, think about it later. It's too cold for this._

Vicente was right. I would never have seen the light of the fire during the day. An orange glow finally caught my eye. It was deep in the trees, so I hiked up my skirts with a wince and started slogging through snow that had yet to be beaten down. Granted, it was barely ankle-deep once I got past the drifts at the side of the road, but _still._ _Snow_ in _shoes_.

About twenty feet away from the light, I saw that it was indeed a campfire, and there was a female figure sitting at it. About ten feet away, I realized that since I could see the fire so well in the darkness, it was probably just as easy to see my torch, and I would have been smart to put it out while I was still on the road. A couple steps after that, and I saw the sword pointed at my gut.

_Brilliant, Cla'nee. Just brilliant._

"Don't you come any closer!" The voice was rough, uncultured – and full of pain. The swordtip wavered. I raised my torch a bit to get a better look and saw the makeshift bandage wrapped around the woman's waist. It was dark with blood. My target was already wounded! What kind of joke were the Gods playing on me?

I held my free hand up in front of me. "I – I'm sorry! I didn't know anyone was here!" _Right. There just happened to be a nice campfire burning in the middle of nowhere with nobody around to set it. What are you going to say next? Random mid-winter lightning strike? The rabbits around here finally learned the secrets of fire? The trees were so fetching cold that they resorted to self-immolation just to keep warm? Brilliant._

The woman grimaced. "Well, then it means nothin' if you keep on movin', you got that?"

My torch guttered in the next sharp gust and we both winced at the snow that blew into our faces. I desperately tried to think of an excuse. I knew I could offer to bind her wound properly, but…but how damn twisted was that? "Look, it's f-freezing out here. I just want a fire t-to sit next to for a while. Please?"

She eyed me warily. "You got gold?"

"I – what?"

"I'm a bandit, girl! You think I let anythin' go for free?" She let out a ragged bark of laughter and waved her sword at my clothing. "A whore like you should understand that."

I tried my hardest to look haughty, but only ended up looking blue with cold. "W-what do you mean?"

Another bark of laughter. "What kind of honest girl wears shoes like that in weather like this?"

I glanced down at my thin slippers and scowled. She was right. Honest travelers wore real shoes. Why hadn't I thought to borrow a pair of real shoes, if for no other reason than to keep my feet warm? I _was_ an idiot. "I'm a d-dancer," I offered lamely.

"Is that what they're callin' it these days? No need to lie to me, girl. I make a livin' off of my sharp eyes. Yer either a fool or a whore. Maybe both, out in this cold. Heh. What's yer name?"

"Um…" My brain was too cold to think up a lie. "Cla'nee."

"The hell kind of name is that?" she demanded, looking wary again.

"Er…S-stage name."

"Like hell. Damn little idiot, thinkin' up a pretty name to get more men to lie with her. You should be ashamed of yerself."

I felt a pout coming on. "S-says the _bandit._ Can I sit d-d-down or not?"

"The gold?"

I grimaced, dug into my pouch and pulled out a handful of coins. Throwing them into the snow in front of her, I said, "Here. S-same amount as an inn."

At this, she threw back her head and laughed until she grabbed her side and winced. Still chortling, she said, "Whore to the bone! You know the value of a Septim, and right enough!"

"Yeah…well…b-b-bite me." I huddled up on the other side of the fire, jabbing the lit end of my torch into the snow, where it hissed and died. No point in letting it burn down. It would probably dry out by the time I needed it again. The grass that I sat on was damp from melted snow. I gave the log the woman sat on a longing glance. The bedroll next to that got the same treatment. "I h-hope you're happy. That was just about all I had left."

"Good." She stuck her sword into the ground beside her and began to scoop up the coins. "That makes two 'o us. If yer lucky maybe I'll be dead afore the dawn and you can take it back."

I grunted noncommittally, wrapping my arms around my shivering body. Gods, if only I knew how to use a bow, I could have picked her off before she even knew I was there. But then, I really had no idea if she was my target. She did fit the description, and I was in the right place, but I really needed to make sure. Just…because. I gnawed on my lip. How was the best way to do that? How not to arouse suspicion?

Showing off my cunning and devious mind, I asked, "What's your name, then?"

"Jena. Plain an' simple, like me. None of this fancy stuff."

Okay, so she was the right one, at least. Too much coincidence, even if she was lying. I pointed at her wound. "How'd you get that?"

"Wolf." She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. "Big bastard, too. Tore me up good afore I could get my blade in his ribs."

"Better you than me."

"Yeah. Doubt you whores are much good with a blade."

I gave her a crooked smile. "If I was, I'd be rotting in the Imperial Prison, or have run off to join a gang like yours."

"Nah. You wouldn't like it. Yer too soft. This kinda life, you never know when you'll get a blade between the ribs. You stick to your men."

"'Blade between the ribs…'" I echoed, staring into the fire. "Obviously, you never met any of my customers."

"You mean…?" She made a stabbing motion.

"No…I…no." I shifted uncomfortably. "It's a long story, and I'd rather not talk about it."

"It's yer life." She yawned and winced again. As I watched, she carefully pulled the bandage away from her side. "Lovely. Gonna hurt like hell in the mornin'."

Once again, I got the urge to offer to help her. I wished that I hadn't bothered to bring my pack, because right now it felt like it was staring at me accusingly. I pressed my hands between my knees and refused to look down to meet its…er…glare. _Gods._ That proved it. I was going mad already. Soon I would start hearing voices like Antoinetta. _Try not to think too hard about it._

I found myself wondering what would happen if I just let the wound she had kill her. To be honest, it was tempting. But there was a good chance that it wouldn't, and who knew if that would somehow not…I don't know…count? Did I have to be the one to kill her? Was that part of the Brotherhood's ability to know such things? All the same, if I was being watched again, it wouldn't score me any points. I would have to play this straight – as straight as killing someone in cold blood could be.

When the bandit woman slid off of the log, and onto the bedroll, I couldn't help feeling a little bit of admiration. There was no way you'd catch me sleeping outside in a place like this. If the wolves didn't get me, I was sure that the cold would. Maybe she had some Nord blood in her. If she intended to sleep, though, it made my job a lot easier.

She waved a hand at me as she gingerly stretched herself out. "Stay as long as you like. If you stay 'til dawn, I might even give you some of yer coin back for keepin' watch."

I grunted noncommittally. Let her keep it, I figured. Considering what I had to take in trade.

She was lying on her side, her neck stretched out and totally vulnerable. I watched her, blinking only when the heat of the fire dried out my eyes, waiting for her to fall asleep. Good thing that she decided that I was an object of scorn. She was willing to fall asleep with me around. The worst a whore would do is try and sneak money away – and, as I said, I wasn't in the mood for that right now. If she knew what I really was, she'd never turn her back on me. For an instant, I felt the glow of secret pride. I was someone special now. I wasn't just a whore. I was someone to be feared. A killer.

Now if I could just do this killing part without scaring myself any more than I already had.

A slight snore drew my attention. I narrowed my eyes. I was pretty sure she was really asleep. She was too wounded to fake, and I knew the signs of a real sleep, anyway. And despite what you're thinking, that was something that I'd picked up as a _thief_, thank you very much.

Standing, I unsheathed my knife and adjusted my pack so that it rested against the small of my back. No sense letting that get in the way, and I wanted it with me in case I had to make a fast getaway. A little awkward, maybe, but not too bad.

_Okay. Here we go. Kill her. Kill her. You have to do it. Come on – she's asleep. You have to do it now, before the wound finishes her off. Do it, do, it, do it! _My knife wobbled in my hand and I quickly retreated to the other side of the fire. I slumped down, shoved my head between my knees, and started taking deep breaths. I couldn't do it. I couldn't! How crazy was this – killing someone I barely knew, for a whole bunch of other people I barely knew?

_But what else do I have?_ If I screwed this up, there was no way that I could go back. And that Speaker probably wouldn't react kindly if I ran out on them now. He probably really would kill me, then.

So that's what it came down to in the end. Her or me. _Basically self-defense_, I rationalized. I could kill someone to keep myself safe, right? I stood again and crept back over to her side.

_It's just like cutting into a slice of mutton,_ I told myself. _How is this so different from what you did to Thrud? Or to those beggars and passed-out drunkards? You enjoyed that. Why can't you enjoy this?_

_It isn't a matter of enjoyment now. It's a matter of survival. You have to do it. Now._

_Okay! Fine! I'll do it!_

I pressed my knife against her throat, closed my eyes, and sliced.

The bandit's eyes flew open and she tried to scream. When she sat up, the blade pushed in deeper and a gush of blood spilled out over my hands. I tried to run, but my feet felt rooted to the ground. With surprising strength, she grabbed my arm and flung it away, yanking the dagger from her throat. I fell backwards. The impact with the frozen ground sent painful jolts up my spine, knocking a bit of sense back into me. I scrambled to my feet and stared at her, wide-eyed. _Oh Gods. Please die. Please die quickly._

The woman put her hand to the wound, but the bleeding didn't stop. Her laugh gurgled redly in her throat. "Sh-shoulda aimed more to the front. Would've got me straight then. Yer blade's dull, too. Who sent you? Minx? Valen?"

My knife fell from my fingers and I backed away, shaking my head mutely.

"So, that's it? Jes you? Yer g-gonna let me bleed out like'n animal?" Her crooked smile was all the more terrifying for the blood that seeped through her fingers. "Good job foolin' me, I g-guess. Just some crazy bitch, t-then, are ya? Get yer jollies like that? Well," here she choked and coughed redness all across the snow, "t-tough luck on ya, my lil' whore. I ain't never b-been one t'let others get their way wit' me. Not like you."

With one, trembling, red-stained hand she reached out to pick up my dagger. I took another step back. Was she going to attack me? Now? I brought my hands up defensively. I might be able to stop her, but she was probably better than me. She could very well kill me, even like this.

But no…she was holding the knife the wrong way for that. Was she going to throw it, or –

_Oh no, oh no, no, NO!_

"_Don't!"_

"Heh. Looks…like I…I win…whor-" She slowly fell to the side, slumping over bonelessly to lie like a rag doll on the ground. A rag doll with a dagger protruding from its chest.

That was too much for me. I fled into the dark and the snow, leaving both my knife and my contract behind.


	12. Chapter 12

**- Chapter 12 - **

I spent the night out behind the stables, too afraid to go back into the city, and too wound up to sleep. But as the sun started to rise, I started to think straight again.

So she killed herself, so what? There was no need to run away like I did. I was short a knife now, because of it. There was absolutely no reason why I should also be short a warm bed. Best clean myself up and go face the…urg…vampire. Better than hiding, because if he decided that meant that I wasn't Brotherhood anymore, he was probably free to use me for a snack whenever he wanted.

Thanks, but no thanks.

I used snow to clean my hands off, and then melted the results into the ground with a small fire spell. I took a quick look into one of the troughs at the stable, and figured that I didn't look too bad. There was no blood on my clothes, as far as I could tell, and I hadn't lost my pack during my mad dash into the night. I had a nice bruise on my hip from it, but that was easily cured. And technically, I had fulfilled the contract. She was dead, and my attack had technically caused it. Technically. Only 'Sithis' could complain.

And it _had_ been my first real contract. A lot of people probably didn't do so well on their first contract. Except for Mathieu. But if he thought that I was worse than him, maybe he would ignore me from now on. That was good. That was very good. I was actually starting to feel better.

And then I got back to the Sanctuary.

Vicente met me at the door, his face utterly blank. Something told me that this was not a good thing for me to be seeing. That idea was rammed home, hard, when he held out his hand and I saw that he was holding my knife.

Oh…_damn._

"I can explain –" I started, hoping to head off the impending reprimand.

"No. No, you cannot. You failed." He sighed, shaking his head. The blankness shifted to what looked like honest regret. "But the failure was ours as well. We failed as your Family. You were unprepared both mentally and physically, and I did not realize as to what degree. For that, I do apologize. However," he tapped my knife against his palm, "you still failed. Tell me why."

"I…" I swallowed and fought down the urge to run past him and hide underneath one of the beds. _Gods, I hate vampires!_ "I didn't hit t-the right spot. On her neck, I mean."

"And?"

"A-and she didn't die fast enough."

"And?" he prompted, one snow-white eyebrow arching.

"And she killed herself," I finished in a fast, ashamed whisper. I could just see past Vicente into the common room, where a few members of my new "family" were trying their hardest to look like they weren't listening. _Dammit. As if I wasn't embarrassed enough. And Mr. "I've never failed a contract, how's _that_ for an introduction" is here too. Of course._

I must have made a face, or at least gone very red, because Vicente got a knowing look in his eye. "Why don't we discuss this in private, Sister?"

I debated whether terminal embarrassment was better or worse than possibly having all the blood drained from my body. It was a _really_ tough choice. If Mathieu hadn't been smirking at me, I probably would have chosen the terminal embarrassment. But with him there, I would have had to face terminal embarrassment followed by being stabbed repeatedly after I was forced to kick him in the shins for grinning like a creepy pompous ass. And I was already in enough trouble.

You might think that I was overreacting here. If you saw that smirk, you'd have the same urge. Let me see if I can imitate it…

See? _See?_

Not trusting my voice, I nodded, and followed Vicente down the hallway. As we passed the others, I heard M'raaj-dar mutter, "Useless toy," under his breath.

_Already in enough trouble…already in enough trouble…_

I bit back a grin when I heard Antoinetta start to lecture the Khajiit about his manners. At least I had one person on my side. I was really starting to like that girl.

"Tell me – why didn't you simply bind her wound? You could have easily poisoned her bandages, or used it as an excuse to get close enough to slip a blade between her ribs. Lucien told me that you attempted to use your skills as a healer in the Rufio contract. Why not here?"

"I – I really did think about it, but…" I shook my head, finishing with a whisper, "I didn't want to."

"Sithis, girl! You had the opportunity, why not take it? You have to learn this, or you will end up decorating the swords of the guard!"

"By _why?_ I can't kill someone who's trusting me to heal them! That's wrong! It's twisted!"

He smiled crookedly at me and motioned that I enter his room. "Girl, you're in the Dark Brotherhood. We _are_ wrong and twisted. If you want to stay with us, and I think you do, I suggest that you come to terms with that idea."

I pressed the heels of my hands against my temples, fighting off a sick headache. Gods, what had I gotten myself into? I couldn't – I just _couldn't!_ I was such a fool for coming to this place. Wasn't I? I had to be, but I had come anyway. After all, I knew that Vicente was right, and I wanted to follow that tempting, dark path. But how?

And why?

Suddenly, Vicente's voice disturbed my thoughts, his question striking out like a whip. "Why did you kill the Nord man?"

I looked up into his strange, reddish eyes. "What?"

"Why did you kill the Nord? First kills are always important. It's a simple question. Why? Why him?"

_Why? _Taken aback, I stammered out, "He – he was hurting the other girls and I wanted to…I had to protect them…I mean…" I trailed off at the sudden look of disgust on Vicente's face. "What did I say wrong?"

"If I happened to be a betting man I would say you convinced yourself Rufio deserved his death as well. Because he was a rapist and a murderer, yes? No – please don't bother to answer. You did. And that is why you failed with the bandit woman."

I hung my head, ashamed even though I didn't know why I should be. After all, what did it matter _why_ I'd killed the men? They were dead. Wasn't that the important thing?

"Sister, I gave you that contract for a reason. I needed to see if you could go through with a kill without your anger pushing you. And you could not. Your failure was not that she died by her own hand, it was that you panicked and were unable to land the killing blow."

"I almost did - !"

"Almost is not good enough. Almost is useless."

_Useless...!_ Color rose in my cheeks and I opened my mouth to voice my anger, only to catch a sharp cuff on the ear. I staggered back, hand flying to the side of my head. "Wha – What the _hell_ was that for?"

"To stop you while I still can. Now do be quiet for a moment. You did not kill him for the girls. You do not care about the girls, and you know it. I look at you right now, and I see nothing but a little ball of rage and fear. You don't care for anything, you just happen to hate some things less than others."

"What does that have to do with _anything?!"_

"Listen to me, girl, and listen _very_ closely. I have been training Murderers like you for two hundred years. I am supposed to be training you now. And if you only get one thing into that pretty little _rock_ you call a head, I want it to be this: Don't be so foolish as to try and disguise your murders as anything but. Hating something will only allow one to feel better about destroying it. You are not taking revenge. You are not removing a blight from Nirn. You are a killer, pure and simple. I hold nothing but scorn for those who claim that they kill for a greater good. We kill for our pleasure, for gold, and for Sithis. _Nothing _more. Talk of deserving deaths, 'Honorable writs,' and the will of the gods…we have nothing so soul and self-satisfying in the Brotherhood. If you need that, go join the Morag Tong, or the Legion. We don't need you here."

I stared at him, aghast. "But-!"

"But – you need _us_, girl. You know that and I know that. And if you don't give us all you have to offer, you will _never_ get what you need. Now – _why did you kill him?_"

I gritted my teeth and spat back, "Because I _wanted_ to!"

He smiled in the face of my outburst, his fangs peeping out from beneath his lips. "Better. Not perfect, but good enough for now. Very well, then…Let me teach you how to kill people you do not want to. That is a bit harder. In any case, today's lecture is over, and this belongs to you."

He held out a small pouch that clinked when he handed it to me. I stared at it. "I thought you said I failed!"

"That is simply my view as your teacher. As far as our client need be concerned, you succeeded and the contract was carried out. The gold belongs to you. Take it, and take your knife as well." He slid the small blade from his belt. "I do hope you find a new one soon; though if leaving them behind proves to be a habit, cheaper is better."

"Um…okay."

"That was a joke." He gave me a look. "_Never _leave your weapon behind again. From now on, consider your blade to be a part of your body. Do you understand?"

I took my knife, cheeks burning. It was now clear to me that I'd taken to the Brotherhood like a rock to water. I'd thrown myself into it and proceeded to get way, way over my head. Maybe Vicente's training would help. Maybe.

Once I was back out in the hallway, I sniffed and rubbed at my eyes as quietly as I could. Vicente could probably hear me, but at least the others wouldn't. To my surprise, the urge to cry passed pretty quickly and was replaced with the urge to agree with the vampire. I hadn't been ready. But I would be next time.

The fact that I was looking forward to that next time surprised me too. I would do it. I would prove to _everyone_ I could do it. Including me. _Especially_ me.

The common room was mostly empty when I walked back. Only Teinaava and Mathieu remained, both reading at a table in the corner. Not in the mood for another confrontation, I tried to walk past them, and to the living quarters, without their notice.

Yeah. That worked well.

"A _healer_," Mathieu smirked at me over the top of his book. "How charming."

"I didn't ask you!" I spat, my tenuous good mood shattered. He must have overheard the questions about binding her wounds. It occurred to me that he was probably not the kind of person to leave me alone if he thought I was below him. He was more like that one crazy lady in the Imperial City who went out of her way to look down her nose at people like me. She handed out pamphlets to us, too. We always gave them to the beggars to use in their fires and…er…stuff.

He stood and gave me a mocking bow. "Of course not, lady healer. I wouldn't want to offend your delicate sensibilities. I suppose we'll need you here to help with the wounds that _real_ assassins can get." He strode off into the living quarters, sending me a careless wave over one shoulder.

Well, no way was I going there now. I stuck my tongue out at the door and hmphfed down into the chair by Teinaava. "I'm going to shove that book of his so far up his ass…"

He raised his scaly brows at me. "That would likely be considered to be against the Tenets."

I considered it. For about a half-second. "So, so,_ so_ far up his ass…"

"Please, let me tell you something, Cla'nee. I think you should perhaps ignore Mathieu. There is nothing wrong with you being a healer. I think it makes you a better killer, in fact."

"Huh?" I looked at him as though he'd suddenly started discussing the value of daily chapel visitations. "How do you figure that?"

The Argonian leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "My sister and I, we are Shadowscales – Argonians hatched beneath the sign of the Shadow. Such hatchlings are given to Sithis, to be trained as assassins from the moment our shells broke beneath our eggteeth. So, unlike our other family members, we Shadowscales grow up steeped in the arts of murder. We learn not only the technique, but also the philosophy behind it. One must understand fully in order to live it, yes? And one such philosophy we discussed is the value of the lives we take. The instructor put forth the idea that we, as assassins, must value life more highly than any other person."

I leaned forward as well, interested in this new idea. "Why?"

He smiled…I think. "First of all, for the obvious reason that we send the souls of our victims to Sithis. If we do not value the life of our kill, it makes a poor gift to the Dread Father – would you not agree? And secondly, if you would like perhaps a more realistic reason, it keeps the assassin from becoming careless." I frowned and he hastened to explain. "Let us say…in the Thieves Guild, one is more likely to be careful when going after an expensive mark, are they not?"

"Of course. It takes planning, and care, and you always try harder," I nodded, understanding beginning to dawn. "I_ think_ I see…keep going. This is really interesting."

He definitely smiled this time, a most unnerving thing to watch. "Thank you. I am happy to find someone else with the same interest in the more, shall we say…mental side of murder. But as I was saying, just as you would take more care when trying to steal a valuable object, you will find you also take more care when stealing a valuable life. If you hold your kills in contempt, you will find you will end up either holding yourself above them; or worse, holding yourself in contempt as well. Either route makes for a careless assassin."

"And a careless assassin is usually the one who ends up decorating the swords of the Guard." I finished with Vicente's words and a wry smile. "So, you're saying the fact that I'm drawn to Restoration will actually make me more careful during a contract?"

"I would hope. I would hate to lose one so fascinated in hearing me drone on and on." He eyed me for a moment, and asked, "Would you like to know who it was who taught us that?"

I tilted my head to the side and gave him a questioning look. I wasn't quite sure why he thought the name of an obscure Argonian would mean anything to me. Still… "Why not?"

"It was Lucien."

I blinked, "The Speaker? Pull the other one, it's got bells on."

"I beg your pardon?" He seemed a little confused at my phrasing.

"You know…pulling my leg. Pull the other one, you'll get an even better response….? Oh, never mind." Trying to explain Waterfront slang was usually pretty counterintuitive. "Why was he in the Black Marsh teaching Shadowscales?"

"I believe that the Black Hand sent him not too long before he became a Speaker. He was a very good instructor. In fact, it was he who trained me and Ocheeva from when we were hatchlings. She picked up Lucien's flair for business, while I enjoyed his philosophy."

"I can see that. How old _is_ he, anyway?"

Teinaava shrugged. "I never asked him such a question. If you are truly curious, Vicente may know."

I wasn't curious. About that, at least. I was plenty curious about some other things. "You said that you've been training pretty much since you were born. Do you…er…have any stories?"

The laugh of an Argonian manages to be both mirthful and menacing at the same time. Imagine laughing with a lisp through a mouth of gravel and you've got the basic idea. I got to hear it a lot as Teinaava told me his stories. He was the most open Argonian I'd ever met – most were terribly cautious.

He told me about his days in the city of Gideon, training with Ocheeva and another Argonian named Scar-Tail. They made their first kill when they were barely beyond their fifth molting – about ten years old. He told me about the time he led a merchant into the swamp on a horrifically circuitous route, hoping to wear her out before he struck, only to find out that she was actually a werecrocodile. His best stories were from when he came to Cyrodiil. I had to join in the laughter during a particularly epic tale of an assassination in the Imperial City itself. Apparently the rooftops there are more slippery than they look and it's hard to be stealthy after you've fallen into a rain barrel. He still got the target, though.

"Do you think I'll ever be as good as you are?" I asked wistfully once he was done.

"Vicente trained Lucien himself. If there is anyone who can teach you, it will be him. Though…I understand that it will be neither easy, nor pleasant."

"Color me unsurprised." He looked at me oddly and I laughed, waving my hand dismissively. "Never mind."


	13. Chapter 13

**-Chapter 13 -**

My training began that very night, continuing for quite a while. I started losing time, down there in the darkness, so I couldn't tell you exactly how long. Just that it was _quite_ a while. Felt like it, anyway.

But I learnt – quickly enough, I suppose. I had the basics of stealth training already, but I was rusty. My ability to use a blade on an opponent who was aware of me or able to fight back was pretty lacking, in a 'get stabbed a lot' sort of way. Fortunately for me, my magical skills were deemed decent. I say 'fortunately' because M'raaj-dar outright refused to teach me anything I didn't pay him for. Guess who didn't have the money?

Not like I _wanted_ his spells _anyway_. Stupid lapcat.

Most of my early lessons involved little more than hitting the combat dummy over and over again, a hundred different ways, trying to build up the muscle I needed but didn't have. Later, Vicente would teach me the best ways to use a dagger on a person. Where our vulnerable spots were, and so on. For example, it's really tough to slit the throat of an Orc, because they have so much muscle it's hard to find the veins. Khajiiti tails are far more sensitive than those of Argonians, and the best place to strike before making an escape – the loss can unbalance them. And the famed Nordic resistance to cold doesn't extend to the eyes or ears. If one can reach, of course.

Or if you have them paralyzed on their backs on the beach, yes. Ha ha. Sharp enough to cut yourself, aren't you?

I found those lessons fascinating, if a little unsettling. The only lesson that _really_ unnerved me, though, was the one on the best way to kill a child. After Gogron offered his thoughts (a battle axe, straight to the skull) I had to excuse myself for some fresh air.

Telaendril tried her hardest to teach me marksmanship after she caught me looking longingly at her bow. And I tried too, because I really wanted to learn. But it seemed as though there was something fundamentally wrong with me. The way I held the bow, or the way I sighted the target. Whatever it was, I simply couldn't do it.

One such marksmanship lesson nearly lost me my head. At least twice.

It had been a usual lesson. Arms held so, feet set so, lift a bit, up a bit higher, inhale and release… And I held my arms just so, set my feet just so, lifted the bow, inhaled, and released the arrow. And this time - instead of springing loose and falling to the floor as it usually did - it shot forward, missed the target entirely, ricocheted a couple times off of the stone behind, and sped back towards the two of us. We yelped and dove to the floor. A moment later, we heard a noise that sounded an awful lot like an arrow burying itself into leather.

Oh…_damn._

Timidly, I raised my head, expecting to see the worst. What I actually saw was Vicente standing behind us, staring down at the book in his hands with some bemusement. My arrow had struck it smack in the spine.

I debated between passing out from relief and running for my life.

Vicente raised an eyebrow at us and drawled, "In my two hundred years in this Sanctuary, I think that you may just be the worst shot that I have ever seen, Sister. Telaendril, next time you take it upon yourself to instruct her, do put up some sort of warning sign on the door?"

"Ehehehe…" I gave a guilty little laugh. "I'm sorry, you know."

"Warning sign," he said firmly, pointing at the door.

"But…"

"_Now._"

After that, the lessons were a bit rarer. That's not to say she gave up on me. Oh no. I think she considered me a personal challenge. Whenever she was in the Sanctuary, and Vicente wasn't, she would drag me off to the practice room. The results were never pretty. To be honest, I couldn't tell if she was humoring me or if I was humoring her at that point. I did learn if I ever wanted to be alone from then on, the best way was to head to the training room with a bow in my hand and a determined look on my face.

I also learned Vicente had a sense of humor that bordered on 'completely fetching twisted.' That was made abundantly clear one morning at breakfast. I was eating with Telaendril and Gogron when I found myself toppling out of my chair mid-bite. I hit the floor with a thud. Attempts to clamber to my feet were totally fruitless. I almost panicked before I realized that I was being laughed at. This did not improve my mood at all.

"Graaga_uk_?" I asked the flagstones.

"Vicente's teaching you poisons now!" Gogron crowed in between belly-laughs. "This'll be great!"

Oh _joy._ That pointy-toothed bastard _spiked_ my _food_. "Gah?"

"It's so you can learn the effects…er, 'first-hand.' In order to aid you in recognizing the symptoms, you see. Don't worry, they're only minor doses." Telaendril leaned into my field of view. "When you can feel your feet again, let me know so we can help you up."

I was starting to figure out why it was so hard for some of us to not kill each other. The next time Vicente fell asleep, I was going to file his teeth down and stuff garlic in his shorts.

There was a clanking noise by my head. I rolled my eyes around until I saw Gogron. "Guh?"

"Here, sister." He lifted my head slightly, and when he set it back down, my cheek no longer pressed against cold stone. He'd folded some cloth – a napkin or a shirt or something – and used it to cushion my head. "Could take a while, you know? And the floor's cold. And there's that whole…drool thing. You're a girl, and you're not an Orc, so it won't be like me, at least. Good thing, huh? I had to mop the floor."

"Ehewww…"

A familiar smacking noise. "You're going to spoil her," Telaendril said, but she sounded pleased.

"Unkuu."

"No problem." He patted my head gently – for him. It only bruised a little bit. "We're family."

Such was my experience with the Drain Strength poison; and yes, I am aware of the irony. That was the _most_ pleasant. I got really good at smelling differences in food after my third or fourth…mishap, though it didn't always help me. I will never be allowed to forget what happened with the Drain Intelligence poison. To this day, I _still_ hear jokes about how I apparently don't have any intelligence to spare.

You don't have to pretend to look uninterested, because I'm _not_ going to tell you.

Fine, fine. It's not like it matters. I'm told I spent an hour staring at my hands in complete rapture before I picked a fight with a likely-looking chair. And…

…and then I kissed Gogron. On the mouth. Twice.

_Stop laughing, you ass._

When I heard rumors that the next poison was going to be Skooma, I threatened to go on a hunger strike. If for no other reason than I really didn't feel like spending the next three days puking my guts out. I have a bad reaction to the drug, you see. I accidentally tried some when I was little, and – as I said – spent the next few days with my head in a bucket. _Not_ fun.

Luckily, once he was faced with the prospect of me being too weak for other training, Vicente relented. For about five meals. Then I got blasted with a specially-crafted Nightshade potion that nearly made my stomach try to crawl out through my ears. Trust me – it was as unpleasant as it sounds.

During the short respite where I _thought_ I no longer had to pick through my food for poisons, I realized the other members of the Sanctuary had been coming and going over the past week. Or was it weeks? Anyway…I was rather proud of myself for figuring out that the old well in the corner of the Sanctuary served as an exit too – though given the obvious ladder, maybe I shouldn't have been. I'd asked about it, and was told that once I started doing contracts more often, I'd be given the key so that I could use it too. For now, I wasn't important enough. (Mathieu's words.)

Oh well. Er…no pun intended. The point was I'd only really noticed Telaendril and Vicente leaving; because of the archery lessons or lack of regular lessons, you see. The others had slipped in or out without me even realizing it. Except for Antoinetta. Her contracts were apparently as rare as mine were right now. Maybe it was because she was ranked low, like I was. Or maybe it was because she was an absolute loony. (Vicente's words.)

But I actually found myself missing Antoinetta when she was finally sent off on contract. She and Telaendril both took off on the same day. After a while, I started to get a little lonely. Vicente noticed that I was moping, as he put it, and sent me to beat up on the well-worn combat dummy. Which I did, albeit with lots of grumbling, until Ocheeva asked me if I'd tested my armor yet.

I admitted I hadn't. The amount of buckles, straps, and whatnot were intimidating to a girl who'd never worn anything more complex than a corset. And while that's complex enough…I mean, look at this thing. _Look _at it! I've been wearing it for _how_ long now, and I still have no idea why some of these things are here. I find new pockets all the time.

Ocheeva made a noise of disgust at my admission before dragging me back to the Living Quarters so she could stuff me into the armor. Literally. The first time I tried it on, I nearly throttled myself on one of the belts. Even with Ocheeva's help. While lacing the back up, she assured me it would be easier the next few times, now that everything was buckled and tied.

I didn't believe her. Raising my arms, I winced when the leather pulled tight, pinching at my shoulders. "Ow! It's not supposed to do that, right?"

Ocheeva shook her head. "No, it is not, but I am not surprised. The armor never fits perfectly at first. Vicente will be able to aid you in fitting it correctly, however."

_Fitted? By a _vampire_? Doesn't fitting involve a lot of…touching?_ "Can't _you_ help me with that?"

"Had you a tail, I would. But you do not." When I hesitated again, she waved her hand at the door. "Go, sister. He is _your_ teacher."

"I know. Trust me, I know."

"Good." She was either missing or ignoring what I was really trying to say, because she just smiled and walked away. "I've a contract of my own tonight, Sister. I will be seeing you later, yes?"

One could only hope.

The training had done me at least a little good – now I could open Vicente's door after only two tries. He'd stopped bothering to look up at my grunts and groans, or the 'I'm-gonna-die' wheezing noises. I suspected his door was part of the training program, too. Either that, or he was a sadist.

Okay…yeah. He was a sadist.

"How does your training progress?"

"My arms are going to fall off, my back is in agony, my entire left hip is one big bruise, and I'm apparently allergic to Nightshade as well as Skooma."

"Aha. Wonderful," he chortled, still sorting through a pile of contracts lying strewn across his table. As I watched, he grimaced at one before tossing it over his shoulder. "…I do believe that Ocheeva only takes a contract when the paperwork gets to be too much…Perhaps in a few more weeks, you will be ready to be sent out again."

I _hated_ vampires. Was he even listening? One way to find out. Okay – two ways, but one of them would have gotten me stabbed, Tenets or no Tenets.

I put on my best whore's voice. "On the positive side, my ass looks absolutely _stunning_ in this armor."

"Do not flatter yourself, Sister." He still hadn't looked up, but I could see hints of a smile at the corners of his mouth. Given how tightly stretched his skin was, his emotions were pretty obvious when he chose to show them. "You are still a collection of unhealthy-looking angles. I have got to feed you."

Says the _vampire._ "Trying to fatten me up?"

"If you are worried, stick to Antoinetta's cooking. I assure you, I have no desire to taste that – even by proxy." He finally looked up. "I assume that I am to check the fit of your armor?"

"That's right." I spun myself in a circle to let him get a good look. "I'm really not sure how it's supposed to fit in the first place."

"Tightly. Slightly looser at the joints." He reached out. "May I?"

I guess I had to. "A-all right."

He began circling me, eyeing me in a very clinical manner. "How does it feel?"

"Um…a little on the loose side. Mostly. It pinches in a few places."

"A little loose is probably a good thing for now. You will be putting on more muscle as your training continues," he said, tugging at various straps and buckles. I was worried about how close he was, but his attention was firmly riveted to my armor. "Not too bad – Lucien did well this time. Maybe a little looser across the hips…" His delicate fingers began to adjust the armor.

I twisted a little to see what he was doing. He cleared his throat pointedly when my armor shifted. "Er…sorry."

"Quite all right. I will need you to do that when I am finished, though. Then we will have you train in it so that we will know if it chafes or not."

This went on for a while. Vicente would make some minor adjustment to my armor, then order me to raise my arm, or bend at the waist, or crouch down, all the while muttering things like: "More flexible than usual…shall require more give here…too much pull on that belt…"

Finally, he stepped back with a noise of satisfaction. "There. How is it now, Sister?"

I stretched my arms out cautiously and blinked when I realized I no longer felt the leather pulling. I hopped on one foot, then the other, wiggled my hips, did a few stretches… I'd never worn anything so comfortable in my life. So _that_ was why everybody wore their armor around.

With a giggle, I tried a few dance steps, skipping about. I hadn't danced since I left the City and the familiar movements felt so good that I just kept going. Wearing this armor, I felt more graceful. Lighter on my feet. Enchanted? Maybe.

Enchantments or not, it was fantastic fun to dance in it. With my eyes on the armor, I began to hum a favorite tune of mine – one that was supposedly of an old Vvardenfell folk song.

I was almost all the way through before I realized I wasn't the only one humming.

I froze mid-twirl, turning red. "Um…um…I got carried away, I -"

"_Words of the Wind_. Or, in the old Dunmeris, _Atwû Adi Mānitu. _I will not pray for that which I've lost/ When my heart springs forth/ From your soil, like a seed/And blossoms anew beneath tomorrow's sun," he quoted in a sing-song voice, a slightly distant smile on his face before his eyes snapped back to mine. "I have a rather old copy of that hymn, if you are interested."

Anything to ignore the fact that I'd just been dancing in a vampire's bedroom. To a love song. That he knew. I consoled myself by thinking that it could have been worse. It could have been _The Lonely Farmer's Daughter and Her Magic Carrot._ The hand motions to _that_ were downright _obscene_.

I don't know _what_ I would have done if he'd started singing along then.

Shrugging, I tucked my hands behind my back, watching silently as he took a yellowing book from his shelf. He beckoned me over, saying, "No need to act as though you are in a museum, Sister. It is not yet old enough to crumble. Younger than I, at any rate."

I wasn't an expert in books. I mean, I could read and write, but I was no scholar or University mage. To tell the truth, I only really knew enough to say which ones looked valuable. This one did. The text was hand-written, not printed, fading with age. It was bound in a type of leather that I'd never seen before, shiny and reptilian. I touched it timidly, hoping that it wasn't Argonian skin.

"Alit hide, I believe. It is not used much in Cyrodiil."

"This is from Morrowind?"

"Yes. From one of the Ashlander tribes, to be precise."

"Oh, like with the Nerevarine!" I wasn't exactly up on recent history, but for a few years, it seemed like that strange hero was all the Dunmer would talk about. One tried to convince me that they thought up a whole new sexual position in honor of him. He called it: "Lord Nerevar Entering Red Mountain Triumphant."

I know…I didn't believe him either.

"Very nearly. The…ah…Nerevarine was not technically an Ashlander, certainly not one by birth…but I'm boring you, aren't I? Suffice to say, I acquired this book sometime between Nerevar's first birth and his second."

I gingerly turned a page with the tip of my finger. Hard to believe that it was younger than the man who stood beside me. "You read a lot, don't you?"

"It is an enjoyable way to pass the time – being what I am, I have quite a lot of time." He sighed, adding with obvious regret, "I only wish that there were more to read. I have already memorized nearly every book that I have been able to get my hands on."

I pointed at the yellowing pages. "And when did you get your hands on this one?"

"When I was still human."

"Oh." How long ago was that? He'd been here for a couple hundred years, but how long had he been alive (or undead) before then? Fifty? A hundred? More?

I mentally slapped myself. Why did I care? _Vampire, Cla'nee! Sharp, pointy teeth. Not your friend, no matter how normal he acts. So stop it – your only concern should be having a vicious predator living under the same roof as you._

_A soft-spoken, well-read, impeccably-dressed predator who's trying his hardest to teach you how to stay alive. What harm is there in being polite?_

It was such a pain when my mind decided to have an argument without me.

"Now, let me show you a favorite hymn of mine." He began to leaf through the book. "I would be interested if you are familiar with the tune…"

Without even a knock, Mathieu stuck his head in the door, startling me. "Ah…Vicente? Our blonde psychopath may be needing your help. Now."

The atmosphere of the room went suddenly tense. I took a closer look at Mathieu, and realized he was sweating. "The hell?"

"Thank you, Brother. I will come at once." He didn't rush out of the room. Vicente never rushed. But he did walk quickly, and he didn't bother to mark his place in the book. Instead, he shut it with a dusty _clap_ and a surprising lack of care, abandoning it behind him on the table.

I stared after him and repeated, "The hell?"

Mathieu glanced at me, his usual smirk gone from his face. "You may want to follow him, healer. Your talents could be needed as well."

I leapt to my feet. "Antoinetta's been hurt?"

"Oh no, not her. Not yet, at least." He seemed to be calming down now, just as I got more worried. This whole thing was just bizarre. And someone might need my help, but this idiot refused to give me a straight answer.

"Fine, whatever." I pushed past him, only to find my shoulder in a tight grip, Mathieu's body pressed against mine. My skin just about crawled clear off of me. "Don't - !"

"Healer, you'd best watch yourself." His tone of voice made it quite clear that this was a threat, not a…well…the only other reason I'd ever found myself just about pinned to a wall. "I don't think that you realize what could happen to you, if you don't. You may be Lachance's new toy, but don't think that will always protect you." He brought his mouth close to my ear. "You'll be replaced, like all the rest."

"You're an idiot." I tried to shake off his hand. "I'm not a toy. I'm here for the same reasons you are."

A dry laugh. "If you truly believe that, then you are the idiot. But if you don't want to be _his _toy, perhaps you could be mi – ?"

He was cut off abruptly by an elbow to the gut. I yanked myself away, rubbing my arm. Damn buckles. Damn funny bone. "Don't _touch_ me. Never touch me _again._" Turning on my heel, I ran, trying to shake off the feeling of his hand slowly creeping up my thigh like a horrible spider. What was _wrong_ with that man?

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A/N: I need to thank Pheonicia for being my wonderful Beta and hitting me repeatedly with the Beta-grammar stick. Trust me, I needed it.

Secondly, the language that Vicente uses is ancient Akkadian. You may see more of it in the future. Fear my geeky love of dead languages.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Wow, I've been gone for a while, huh? Real life sucks. But I'm back! And I thought I'd stick in a random plug at this point. The Dark Brotherhood Chronicles mod - if you haven't heard of it, it will be awesome, go check it out. I'm part of the writing team, so whenever it's finally all rolled out you'll might just recognize some stuff. And maybe some patented crazy Amadaun dialogue. Also, potatoes.

I'd give you a link, but after six-plus years on this site, I still haven't figured out how to put them in. Just search for us on the official forums, or the Modcraft forums. We're fairly easy to find.

Anyway...New chapter!

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– **Chapter 14 –**

The scene in the common room didn't calm me any. Antoinetta was backed up against the wall by the well, shaking like she had a fever, blade in a white-knuckled grip. Her cheeks were soaked with tears.

_What? _"An - ?"

Strong fingers gripped my arm. Telaendril yanked me back so quickly that I felt my muscles protest the movement. She pressed her other hand over my mouth. When I looked up at her in utter confusion, she shook her head and hissed, "_Quiet._"

Vicente was standing just in front of us, well outside the reach of Antoinetta's blade. His gaze flicked over to me and Telaendril – for a moment, I saw concern in his eyes – but other than that he appeared totally calm. Telaendril held me even tighter and nodded.

Reassured that her grip on me was secure, he began to walk towards Antoinetta with infinite care, his hands held out. Sort of how you'd approach a stray dog that was more likely to tear your throat out than lick your face.

What had happened? What was going on? Was this the effect of some kind of strange poison I'd never heard of before? Or had she gone _completely_ insane?

All right, I doubted the poison possibility. If it hadn't been seen on the Waterfront or Vicente's private stash, it hadn't been seen anywhere. Except maybe for the Imperial Palace, but there was no way it would have obvious effects like this. (Part of my lessons on poisons. Don't ask. Really.) However, I was definitely _not _ruling out the 'completely insane' idea.

"Antoinetta. Antoinetta, you are not out on contract. You are back home. Sithis would be upset were you to attack your family." When she spun around with her dagger at the ready, he literally froze in mid step, one foot in the air. His voice took on a note of almost parental warning. "Antoinetta…?"

She let out a whining growl that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end – and lunged. Vicente dodged her strike with liquid grace, almost dancing around the blade. When she swung again, he moved behind her, wrapped one arm around her waist and caught the blade with his bare hand.

I'm serious. He grabbed the fetching blade. The shiny part. Yeah, my eyes were about that wide, too.

I gasped against Telaendril's palm. Her hand tightened. "Not yet."

Antoinetta wailed and tried to kick back at the vampire's shins. I winced – every single one of her movements had to be driving her blade deeper into his hand. When he spoke, though, his voice was as calm as it'd been while he was discussing Vvardenfell poetry with me.

"M'raaj-dar, if you please?"

The Khajiit appeared out from behind one of the pillars. I hadn't noticed him before. At all. I supposed that I could be forgiven for my oversight, considering the distraction in the middle of the room and the fact that I was rapidly running out of air. Still, part of my mind scolded me and made a note to keep my eyes open next time. Such was Vicente's training already.

M'raaj-dar raised his hand, his fingers glowing green. He reached out to Antoinetta – who snapped her teeth at him – and touched her forehead.

Antoinetta's body suddenly relaxed, going nearly boneless. She was still on her feet, but only barely. She slumped against Vicente's chest with a sigh, rubbing at her eyes with her free hand. Vague surprise showed on her face when she realized her fingers were wet. "Is it…raining?"

Vicente carefully unwrapped her fingers from the hilt of her dagger and gave M'raaj-dar a wordless nod, mouthing "Thank you."

The Khajiit nodded back and took Antoinetta by the shoulders, puling her away from the vampire. "Come along, Sister. It's time for bed."

"Bed?" She smiled widely up at him, her eyes happy and unfocused. Sweet _Mother_, that was creepy.

He smiled back and led her off. "Yes, bed. You must sleep."

"Okay…"

The door closed behind them and Telaendril let out a sigh of relief. And I started seeing little sparkly things at the edges of my vision.

I slapped at the Bosmer's hand frantically. "_Airph!_"

"Oh! Sorry!" She let me go and I wheezed thankfully. She sure knew how to restrain someone…Ow, my ribs.

"W-what…what was that…all about?" I asked between gasps.

"Sometimes she gets like this." Telaendril's voice was tight with worry. She rubbed my back gently until my breathing slowed again. "I thought that she was fine this time, but after we got back…I only turned my back on her for a second, I swear to Sithis…" she trailed off. "Vicente, it's my fault. I should have realized…"

"No, Sister, it is not your fault." Vicente pulled the blade from his hand with a carelessness that made my stomach turn. "Do you know what set her off?"

Telaendril shook her head as she took the blade from him, sliding it into her belt. "I'll clean that off…Nothing precise. I followed her as usual, and she seemed fine, until this."

"Hmm. I thought that contract would have gone well for her, but I see that I was wrong. I shall have to reread it and see if I can discover the source of the problem."

"I can - " my voice caught in my throat. I coughed and tried again. "I can take a look at the – at your hand, if you'd like."

He glanced casually at the wound. "Thank you, Sister. I would like that. Now, I assume that she completed the contract?"

"Perfectly. Every bit," Telaendril said, a hint of pride in her voice. "And I really think she's getting better."

Vicente only nodded slowly, looking thoughtful.

M'raaj-Dar met us at the door. "She's asleep. I gave her a potion. She should stay asleep until morning."

"Thank you, Brother. Do tell Gogron that he can let the Dark Guardian out of the Training Room?"

The Khajiit gave a short nod. He looked worried, but not worried enough to not curl his lip at me. I was too shaken to care. He rolled his eyes. "She'll be fine. She just does this, all right? It's pretty rare. Or are you afraid that she'll slit your throat next time?" His ears suddenly pricked up. "Now there's an idea."

The fact that M-raaj-dar actually seemed to be trying to reassure me – in his own nasty way – only made me feel more out of my depth. I almost welcomed the familiar death threat he tacked on to the end. At least _that_ was normal.

In the living quarters, Telaendril all but ran to Antoinetta's bedside. I could see that the girl was fast asleep, chest rising and falling peacefully. Schemer was curled up on the bed at her feet, flicking his scaly tail back and forth. It was almost cute – for a twenty pound rat. Telaendril scratched him behind the ears. He chattered happily at her and went to sleep.

With gentle fingers, the Bosmer unbuckled Antoinetta's scabbard and pulled the blanket up to her chin. "I'll keep an eye on her," she whispered to Vicente, before nodding at me. "You fix Vicente up, all right? It will take your mind off of things. Antoinetta will be fine. M'raaj-Dar's potions always work."

Vicente waited wordlessly as I gathered what I needed to heal his cut. Unfortunately, my small supply of herbs was starting to get pretty low. For that matter, I wasn't even sure that they would work on vampires. _I guess I should just stick to spells_, I thought, wetting a cloth. _Magic is magic is magic, after all._

Pulling up a chair, I dabbed at his hand with the cloth. Luckily, the cut wasn't deep, and nothing important was severed. Still… Trying to cover my unease, I said, "I didn't know vampires could bleed."

"Oh, we have blood, the same as you. It simply does not flow." He wiggled his fingers, and I realized just what was disturbing me about the cut. It should have been bleeding freely. It wasn't. At best, it was…well, I suppose 'oozing thickly' is the best term. I stared shamelessly, reaching out a finger to touch the blood. It _was _thick – almost congealed. Vicente watched without a word.

Unable to think of anything more articulate, I asked, "Why?"

"A side effect of not having a beating heart," he explained wryly.

"Oh. That makes sense." I rubbed his blood between my fingers. A thought occurred to me. "Wait. I won't…I mean…not to be rude…"

"I doubt that you will catch anything from me. But I will not be insulted should you decide to cast a Cure Disease spell on yourself. It is better to be safe, and it would be cruel of me to force something that you fear onto you."

"A-all right." I went back to cleaning out the wound, an act that now seemed rather pointless. "You could have just grabbed her wrist, you know."

"No, I could not." When I raised my eyebrows at him, he lifted his other hand and made a fist. "I am far stronger than a regular human. Had she struggled, I could have injured her. In one of her fits, she does not always recognize pain."

"Surely you're not _that_ strong," I protested.

He nodded at the metal goblets that were stacked above the wine rack. "Would you hand me one of those, Sister?" Curious, I did as he asked. He took the cup of the goblet between thumb and forefinger and, ever so gently, crushed it flat.

My jaw dropped.

"Human bones are not half so pliable as metal," he curled the stem around one finger, staring at it with a bemused detachment. "And it is reflexive to tighten one's grip on something that is trying to escape. The result could have been…unpleasant."

"I…er…ow." I winced, the image shooting through my mind. It reminded me of the time I'd watched some sailors unload their cargo. I never found out what was in the crates, but it was heavy, and unwieldy. And eventually, someone's hand slipped. Someone's leg was caught. Someone was beyond what healing magic could repair.

And the Bloated Float gained a new regular – a bitter, broken sailor who could no longer climb the rigging and took his anger out on girls who didn't deserve it.

We sat in silence for a while as I finished cleaning the gash. Luckily, the edges were nice and clean. Antoinetta's dagger must have been really sharp. Healing it, however, was another story entirely. The vampire's flesh seemed to just drink up my spell. After a few minutes, I had to stop, gasping.

"Are you well, Sister?"

"Fine." I rested my head in my palm, fighting back the wooziness that came with casting too much, too fast. "I'm just a little dizzy."

"You have never healed a vampire before, I assume?"

"Oh yes, they dropped by the – I mean, they stopped by all the time," I grumbled. "Of course not. You're the first one I've ever seen."

"Is that so? Curious." I frowned at him, but he didn't seem inclined to elaborate on the statement. "It is more difficult to coax undead flesh to knit, Sister. Might I suggest, in the future, that you use many small spells, rather than one large one? At any rate, I shall finish up the healing myself, if you would like."

"No," I said stubbornly. "I said I would, and I will. Let me just get something to drink." I stood, wobbling a little, and walked over to the wine rack. A thought struck me, and I paused with a bottle in hand. "Um…would you like one too?"

"Please. If you do not mind." He nodded at the crumpled, former goblet that lay on the table and said wryly, "I may as well indulge – Ocheeva may ban me from the wine once she sees what I have done with her tableware."

I poured a couple glasses of wine and sipped at mine thankfully. It probably wouldn't help the dizziness, but with any luck, the shakes that I still had would go away. I glanced over to where Telaendril still sat at Antoinetta's bedside. Her expression was one of deep worry and guilt.

I made a mental note to bring her some wine when I was done with the healing. She looked like she needed it far more than I did. When Antoinetta woke up…

"Why does…" I swallowed nervously, not sure if I should be asking. "Why did Antoinetta do that? She usually seems so different."

"I believe I told you that she had a difficult life before she came to us. Such a life tends to leave scars." He gave me one of his penetrating looks. "Do you not agree?"

_Urk. _Did he know? I'd almost slipped earlier. More importantly, did he care? He was a man – I knew what men thought about whores. What they wanted them to do. But he wouldn't want that from me, right? Ugh…not that I'd give it to him if he did. Technically, that would be necrophilia, wouldn't it?

His hands were cold enough. I didn't even want to imagine…_ugh._ I mean, he didn't have any sort of bloodflow, so how would…?

Okay, really bad line of thought. My mind could shut up now. _Please_.

After deciding that it was best to stop thinking entirely, I decided that I was being far too paranoid. But I adlibbed frantically, just in case. "Well, living on the Waterfront, I saw things, yes, but…nothing like that."

"I see. Well, in Antoinetta's case, I believe it has something to do with the death of her uncle."

"What happened to him?"

"She killed him," he said simply.

"But why would that…?" Shows how much I'd gone over the edge since coming here. I didn't want to know _why_ she'd killed her own uncle. I wanted to know _why_ it would screw with her head. Looking back at it, I suppose you have to laugh.

Or don't. Fine – _I_ thought it was funny.

"She went against the orders of her gang to do so. They took exception. Lucien rescued her."

"I should stop asking about this, shouldn't I?"

He smiled mirthlessly.

_Right._ I could only guess what had happened to her when her gang "took exception" to something she had done. She probably belonged to one, either bandit or street, that wasn't part of the Thieves Guild. I was always told that the Gray Fox believed in honor. Not everyone else did. Some leaders took their positions a little too seriously, and came down hard on any disobedience.

There were stories, you see. There were always stories. People on the Waterfront always talked about the "trash." Groups stuck between the peculiar honor of the Thieves Guild and the terrible shadow that was the Dark Brotherhood (which had its own, even more peculiar honor, I was learning). Not good enough, or perhaps not bad enough, for either of them.

So, Antoinetta used to be one of them, huh? No wonder she wanted so badly to be innocent. I'd tried that for a while at the brothel. Smile, giggle, act like a child. Pretend that it isn't you. I couldn't do it, so I got grumpy, stole from the customers, and learned to heal.

_I guess that Antoinetta can't always do it either. Is that how I'd have ended up if I'd tried? Breaking like that? Poor little thing._

"Seems sort of…um…" I waved my hand around, unable to think of a word that described the scene. 'Crazy' didn't quite cover it. Neither did 'shocking.' And 'Gods. Seriously. What the _hell_?' seemed a little insulting. I managed to get the idea across, though.

"Normally, we are able to talk her down, but your presence complicated things. You are not as familiar yet, you see, and we did not want to risk you."

"And that was why you tried to get your fingers cut off?"

Vicente chuckled dryly. "That was foolish of me to handle things the way that I did. Oh, don't look so surprised, Sister – I am willing to admit fault. Grabbing her from behind was extremely foolish. I panicked her instead of calming her. That is why I was forced to resort to magical means. It would have been easier had you remained behind."

"Mathieu told me I might be needed. And no one told me to stay," I pointed out.

"Again – my error. I doubt that I shall have to tell you to stay away in case this happens again. You seemed more than a little unsettled by it."

Actually, by now, I was more than a little ashamed at my fear. And I knew that I really should just drop the subject and get back to healing Vicente. But for some reason, I wanted to know. I wanted to help the little, wide-eyed girl. She seemed to feel that I was her friend, after all. So I kept asking.

"Not to sound rude…"

"Oh, Sithis forfend, Sister."

I resisted the urge to hit him. He'd probably dodge it anyway. "Why is she here?"

He didn't look at all surprised at my question. "Lucien recruited her, she has broken no Tenets, and she fulfils her contracts. She is quite talented, but – shall we say – slightly unstable."

"Only slightly?" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. I blushed.

"Indeed. But, one could argue that we are all unbalanced in our own ways."

"But isn't that dangerous? Letting her go out like that?"

"That is why one of us follows her. Usually it is Telaendril – she is the motherly type, and she cares deeply for Antoinetta."

"No, I mean – wouldn't it be easier to just keep her here?"

"Perhaps. It would be easier to keep you here as well, don't you think? To keep you from using your talents?" He smiled at the look on my face. "You disagree, Sister?"

Why did he always have to be right? "But…one of you followed _me_ on my first contract, didn't you?"

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps?"

"Perhaps."

_Yeah, and my knife walked home. _I gave up. "Fine. All right. Perhaps. Will I _perhaps_ be followed for every single one afterwards, like Antoinetta?"

"I doubt it. You are not as…wild as Antoinetta is. Most of the time, she fulfills her contracts without issue. However, sometimes…" he trailed off significantly. "You, on the other hand, are much more cautious and controlled than she is. You are more likely to fail a contract because you hesitate to act. I'm hoping that I will be able to break you of that habit."

Something bumped against my chair and Vicente's gaze flicked up over my head. "Mathieu."

I immediately tensed up. _If he so much as _breathes_ near me, I swear I'll… _Dammit! Why couldn't I be good enough to make him go away?

Luckily, he didn't seem interested in me at the moment. "So, how's the loony doing?"

"Our _Sister_ is well. I must thank you for coming to fetch me."

"Yes, well…" he chuckled, "it looked like the safest choice. Worse than usual, wasn't it?"

"It was, unfortunately." Vicente held up his palm and Mathieu let out a low whistle.

"She got you? The great Vicente? Sithis – imagine if we could harness that. What a weapon she would be."

"Don't even suggest that!" Both men stared at me after my sudden, indignant yelp. Normally, under their combined gazes – monster and murderer – I'd have tried to sink into the floor. But my sudden anger helped me ignore it. What Mathieu was suggesting… "How could you want to do that to her?"

"Well, what is that you always say, Vicente? Use every weapon at your disposal? It would be a shame to let her…go to waste."

"Go to - ! What you're saying…using her…tearing into her mind like that…Mathieu, that's rape!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Vicente nod slightly. Was he smiling, too? "She has a point."

"She has a bad analogy."

"I have a sick Sister. Leave her alone."

Mathieu's eyes narrowed slightly before his smirk returned. For the second time that day I saw past his mask, and I wasn't liking what I saw. "So it's like that, is it? Far be it from me to keep you from salving your conscience. Whatever helps you sleep at night, healer."

I was a step away from trying to dig deep gouges out of the table with my fingernails, leather gloves or no. Vicente leaned towards me, pointing towards the other half of the room. "Why don't you bring Telaendril a glass of wine, Sister? She looks as though she could use one right _now._"

Screw the glass of wine. I wanted to go back to my Waterfront roots and try to claw Mathieu's eyes out, but I would have to be deaf to miss the inflection on 'now,' and stupid to not realize that Vicente was trying to get me to leave before there was any more bleeding today. Because it would definitely be on my part. Though I sort of hoped I'd be able to break Mathieu's nose before he ran me through and ate my eyeballs or something.

After all, the man practiced even more than me, and he didn't even have a vampire hanging over him. (Not _literally,_ of course…you know what I mean.) There was no denying he was good at what he did, though. He'd be up all hours of the night, practicing. Maybe 'good' isn't really the right word. 'Obsessive' fit him better. It was though something drove him – something even deeper than the usual desire to kill.

I had no such desire of my own to find out what that driving force could be. Mathieu's madness was the quiet, twitchy type. I'd known people like him. I didn't let them into the brothel. Not after that one time.

You know something? Bringing a glass of wine to Telaendril sounded like a really good idea after all.

Somehow, I managed to not either spill the wine everywhere or accidentally pour the whole bottle over Mathieu's armor. Yes. Accidentally. I swear.

I wished he would stop looking at me like that. Ugh.

Even in her current state, Telaendril seemed to sense me walking towards her. She took the wine gratefully and drained the glass in one go. I wished that I'd thought to bring the bottle with me, but there was no way I was going back to get it until Mathieu left.

Gods. That man was rapidly climbing up my list of 'Scary Stuff.' In case you're wondering, the list has bread at the very bottom, and the Speaker at the very top. Mathieu was currently hovering somewhere below vampires and above going out and doing another contract.

"How is she doing?"

"Not too badly. I wish I knew what set her off, though…" Telaendril trailed off and shook her head. "I hope she didn't scare you, sweetie."

I shrugged, and sat down next to her. "I've seen worse…on the Waterfront, you know."

"I see…" she rolled the empty goblet back and forth between her palms. "I've been there a few times, but probably not since you were born. At least not since I joined the Brotherhood. Most of my contracts send me to places that my skills in stealth are needed. I hate to say it, but the guards don't care as much for the people in the poorer places. Like dear Antoinetta."

She looked like she wanted to cry, so I hastily changed the subject. "Um…if you don't mind me asking, how did you get recruited? Everyone seems to know my story, but I don't know yours. That is – if you don't mind telling me."

"How I joined?" Her eyes hardened a little. "It's a short story. My own father hired the Brotherhood – Lucien, to be precise – to kill me. I escaped, and paid my father back."

"You escaped the Speaker?" I stared at her, awed. Even though I'd only met the man twice – enough to leave a serious impact on my probably not-too-stable brain – the idea that someone had actually _gotten away_ from him… "That's incredible!"

She blushed, shaking her head. "Hardly. Sometimes I think I was just lucky to get to my father before Lucien got to me. Most of what people mistake for skill is actually luck anyway."

"No, you must be really good!" I protested.

With a wry smile, she reached out and mussed my hair. "Vicente's got you practicing that silver tongue, I see."

"A little." I blushed. "Hopefully I'm better at it than archer – " I slapped my hand over my mouth when Antoinetta whimpered in her sleep. Telaendril and I held our breath until she settled again, curling up like a child. Relaxing, I muttered, half to myself, "Never thought I'd be this worried over a killer."

"No, sweetie. You're worried about your Sister. Your Family. That's quite different." She smiled again, this time at the look of confusion on my face. Setting her goblet on the floor, she reached out to straighten Antoinetta's blanket around her shoulders. "We're more than just a guild. The entire world wishes that we were dead. The Legion? Want us dead. The nobility? Want us dead. The common folk? Want us dead. The temples? Want us dead. The Morag Tong? Really want us dead. Even our clients secretly want us dead. That's why our Family is so important. _Family_. Capitalize it, underline it, always carry that in the front of your mind. We're the only ones who want us to keep breathing." She nodded her head towards Antoinetta's sleeping form. "And for most of us, it's all we have left."

Telaendril picked her goblet back up. "Come along, Sister. Let's get some more wine."


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Wow, it's been a while, huh? Longer than I thought it would be. I claim an excuse, though - I've got a new baby nephew! Little brat's been eating up all my spare time for the past...months and months.

Yes, there is a new generation bearing my genetic material. I've already taught him how to hold a Playstation controller and respond to the word 'Minion', somehow cementing myself in the position of 'Favorite Aunt.' We shall get along well together.

Anyway - I'm back! And I plan to start updating this story fairly regularly again. I mean, I've got the whole thing planned out already, I'd better finish it, huh?

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**- Chapter 15 -**

I was getting bored. Really bored. I could only hit the training dummies for so long. Honestly – was Vicente's plan to get me so fed up of being underground that I'd stab someone just so I could see the sun again?

Probably.

"Vicente, I'm _bored!_"

"You are also slightly off in your stance. Were you fighting a real opponent, you would have found yourself flat on your back by now."

_Yeah, as if that's a new place for me. _"How was I supposed to know?" I complained. "You haven't ever let me spar anyone but you, and you stop every time you see anything wrong."

"That's 'cause if he took advantage of it instead, he'd probably snap you in half." Gogron was leaning against his axe, watching me and Vicente spar. I stuck my tongue out at him and he let out one of his great booming laughs. "Don't take it hard – he'd snap me in half too!"

After Gogron's last contract (which had supposedly gone poorly), Vicente had ordered him back into the training room. I didn't know all of the details, but it had something to do with learning how to dismember a body _properly._

I…really didn't want to know any more than that.

"It is just as well. An assassin is not meant for direct combat." Gogron cleared his throat, and Vicente amended, "Most of us, that is. Cla'nee is not. Should you find yourself in such a situation it is always better to run than fight. I am merely covering all the bases should such a situation arise."

"Yeah, and just about everyone you'd fight'll be stronger than you anyway, Sister." The Orc thought for a moment, then added, "And faster, and better at swordfighting, and probably better armed, and – "

"All right, all right!" I interrupted. "I get it! You don't have to rub it in."

"Nothin' personal, Sister. You're new, after all. I just wanna know how you didn't get turned into fishfood out on the Waterfront. I've been there. I've met the pirates." He fingered his axe. "Killed some of 'em too. Thing is, most everyone there's pretty nasty. You're not. How'd you survive?"

"They're not as bad as all that," I protested. "A lot of the normal folk look out for each other, and the Thieves Guild cared for me when I was little."

"_Was_ little?"

I scowled and jabbed a finger at him. "Don't blame me if the Waterfront isn't up to the Brotherhood! I learned how to hold my own against what was there. Wasn't one guard could keep a hold of me if I didn't want him to."

"Oh really? C'mere. Let's see if that's - "

He reached for my arm, curiosity written across his face. Luckily, I'd been expecting it, and was determined to show that I had a talent for something other than…well, you know.

Grabbing his wrist, I pulled forward, surprising him enough to throw him off balance. In that brief window of opportunity, I swiveled on my heel and yanked his arm around behind him, just managing to get it locked behind his back. Really, Gogron was a mountain compared to me. I had to use all of my body weight to make it work. Twisting his wrist almost to the point of being uncomfortable, I chirped, "There, you see?"

"Bloody _hell_, woman!" he bellowed. "That's my arm you're trying to break!"

"You're telling me that you never learned hand-to-hand? A big man like you?" I tugged at his arm again and he growled before grabbing me by the braid with his other hand and easily pulling me away. I grinned cheekily up at him. "Does that mean I'm better at something than you are?"

"It means I'm gonna tie you to the ceiling by your hair."

"Vicente, Gogron's picking on meeeee!"

"Do you deserve it?" I heard the smile in Vicente's voice.

"No!"

"Yes."

"Maybe a little…"

"Yes." Gogron ruffled my hair with a toothy grin, pulling it out of its braid. "Wouldn't have thought a pretty girl like you'd ever have to twist a man's arm."

You know, for an Orc, Gogron really was a sweetheart. "I…I-It's just hand-to-hand."

He screwed up his face. "I thought hand-to-hand was for punchin' people."

"Well, some of it is, I guess. What I learned was all the different ways to get away from someone grabbing you so that they _don't _punch you. The…Thieves Guild taught us little ones how to escape from guards. I've had to use it more than once," I muttered a little grumpily, adding, "The men there can't keep their hands to themselves."

"Oh! You're talking about that wrestling stuff." He shook his head and grimaced. "Too complex. You gotta know all these holds and rules and steps…Bah! Me, I like my axe. It's simple. Y'hold it by the haft, and stick the sharp parts into the target. That's all. None of this fancy stuff."

"Which was why I beat you," I teased. Okay, so I hadn't really beaten him, just surprised him. But I couldn't help rubbing it in, anyway. And I couldn't wait to tell Telaendril. It would really cheer her up. She was still so depressed about the Antoinetta thing – even though Antoinetta herself couldn't remember what'd happened.

"Which was why you – Hey! If I knew how to do it, I'd beat you right back!" He mock-punched me, rocking me back on my heels.

"That is an interesting idea." Vicente was rubbing his chin. Gogron and I exchanged an 'uh-oh' look. Teinaava always said the most dangerous things we had to face as assassins were Vicente's ideas. As far as I could tell, he was completely right. Crazy vampire. "The ability to escape from a captor's grip is just as important as evading such a grip, and I admit that my training in this area up until now has been lacking. I do know a few different moves from my time in the Legion, though." Vicente stood and walked over to me. "Sister, may I demonstrate?"

I took a step back. "What are you going to do?"

"I will need to restrain you, so that you can demonstrate to Gogron how you would escape."

_What? No! Vampire! Bad! _My entire body tensed up in fear. "No, I – I – I…can't."

A flicker of disappointment showed in his eyes. "You are certain?"

"…yes…"

"What's wrong, Sister?" Gogron looked concerned at my discomfort.

"It's just …I don't do being grabbed. Or held tight. I'm sorry. It…it scared me enough the first time I learned it. I can't…I mean, I don't…just not again."

"Ah! Like Antoinetta, right?"

"No…I – I'm not…the Waterfront…!" I babbled before pressing my hands to my forehead and forcing myself to take a deep breath. "No. Not like Antoinetta. The…pirates on the Waterfront, where I grew up. They weren't nice to girls like me, all right?"

Understanding flickered in Gogron's eyes and I knew I'd said the wrong thing. Here it came. The pity. I could have handled the scorn I'd get from M'raaj-dar or Mathieu. But I couldn't stand pity. Not from these people. When I was little, I'd never understood the grownups when they turned down charity from the merchants or nobles. But now I understood. I wanted to pretend I had at least a little pride left.

Biting my lip, I braced myself for the inevitable.

"Aha! I see, I see. Sure didn't grow up with Orcs, did ya? Your dad would've taught you how to deal with that. You just grab 'em, twist and yank, y'see? Now _that's_ hand to…er…well, not exactly hand, but…"

Or not. My jaw dropped and I heard muffled laughter from behind me. I turned to see Vicente leaning against a pillar, snickering into his hand. At the sight, I dissolved into giggles as well. Gogron's booming laugh drowned us both out.

When the Orc finally had to gasp for breath, my ears picked out a soft – and unfamiliar – chuckling from behind me.

A tall man leaned nonchalantly against the doorframe. He looked like he had Breton blood, though he was the tallest Breton I'd ever seen – easily over six feet. His dark hair was tousled, giving him a boyish look despite his height. He had a thin scar across one cheekbone that somehow managed to make him look even more handsome.

Er…did I say handsome? I meant…um…I meant…ah, screw it. He was _gorgeous_. I had a brief urge to rip his clothing off with my _teeth_.

"Looks like I've missed the joke again. I suppose that's my own damn fault, though." He held his hands out. "Vicente, Gogron – Long time, no see. And who is this new Child?"

I had to swallow a couple of times to get my mouth to work. "C-Cla'nee, sir – I mean, Brother."

"Jontan Blanchard, dear Sister Cla'nee. I'm sorry for surprising you like that. I'm not around here as often as I'd like." He shrugged, and I realized he moved with the same easy grace that the Speaker did. Without making me want to hide under a bed and pretend I was a dust bunny. _Wow_. "Running errands, stabbing folk – you know how it is."

Surprised. Yes. That's right. I'm surprised. I'm not staring at his – _face! I'm looking at his face! Dammit! What the hell, Cla'nee? _"N-no…not really…"

He slapped his hand to his heart, feigning shock. "Vicente – you mean to tell me you've been keeping our newest Sister all to yourself? Whatever would Lucien think? You selfish old man!"

Behind me, I heard Vicente's soft laugh. "And if I am to give her away, to whom would she go?"

"Hmmm…that's a problem, isn't it?" He scratched his chin. "Bruma's frigid cold this time of year…Leyawiin's got bugs…Arquen eats Murderers for breakfast…I guess we'll have to keep her after all!" He looked down at me, pale eyes sparkling with restrained laughter. "Does that work for you?"

"Ah?" Oh, sweet Mother – I was gone. Not good.

Suddenly, Jontan frowned and leaned down so he could look me in the eye. "Hmph," he said.

_Uh oh._ "Um…what? What is it?"

"You're quieter than Lucien said you'd be. More polite, too."

I went red. "_What?!_"

He straightened up and turned away, shrugging. "But then, considering what our dear Speaker said about you, you'd have to be, wouldn't you? After all, no woman could be as loud and rude as he said you were."

My hands clenched into fists. "Vicente?"

"Yes, Sister?" He sounded amused, damn him.

"Can I kill him? Just a little?"

"That is against the Tenets."

"How about stabbing?" Vicente shook his head. "Punching? Can I hit him?"

Jontan spun around and made a face that I hadn't seen on anyone over the age of five. "You'll have to catch me, first!" With a mocking laugh, he ran out the door.

"Eh?" I stared after him, my mouth hanging open. "Is he serious? I wasn't serious. Is he _serious?_"

"Rarely. However, you'd best take him up on his challenge."

"What challenge?" I protested. "I didn't even know there was a challenge!"

The vampire was still smiling at me. "Off you go."

"Oh, for the love of the _Gods!_ This is ridiculous! This is bizarre! You're telling me he's one of us?" I ran out the door, still shouting. "This is something I'd expect _me_ to pull! If I was _drunk!_"

"Run fast, Sister!"

"Bite me, Gogron!"

The common room was suspiciously empty. _Dammit. All right…think, Cla'nee, think._ He wouldn't have run outside. That was too big a risk. So he had to be hiding somewhere inside. I peered suspiciously up the ladder in the false well. Nothing. _Dammit._

Why was I doing this? _Okay…calm down. Breathe. _ He was faster than I was, with those long legs, and I really didn't want to make a fool of myself chasing him from room to room if I did find him. He had to be hiding, so I had to be quiet.

I crept around the room, my back to the wall, thinking furiously. He was really tall, right? So that narrowed down the places he'd fit in. And he'd been wearing normal clothing, not the armor I was. So he'd be in as dim an area as he could manage. Screwing my eyes shut, I thought back. Had I heard a door open and close after he ran off? My gaze fixed on the door to the living quarters.

Yes, I had…hadn't I?

Slowly, I pulled open the door, slipping through the crack and down the stairs. I checked under all the beds, but only found Schemer, who snuffled at me for waking him up. "Sorry," I whispered, giving him a scritch. If Schemer was asleep, then Jontan must not be a stranger, I figured. Which meant that he knew the Sanctuary – and probably better than I did.

I bit my lip, trying to think. If there was a secret room in this place, I was out of luck. And I didn't think that he'd have hidden in Ocheeva's or Vicente's rooms. Okay, he could have, but there weren't a lot of good places for someone his height. But if he wasn't here…I peeked under the tables just in case…nope…that left the bath.

_What sort of hiding place is that? _Once again, I wondered why the hell I was doing this. Because I'd been insulted? Because Vicente told me to, albeit indirectly? Because I desperately wanted to do something other than training, and chasing down a gorgeous man was a pretty good way to spend an afternoon? Because I had finally gone crazy? All of the above?

_Definitely the last one, if I'm going so far as to check the bath…please don't let Mathieu be in here…I don't want to have to gouge out my eyes… _I carefully pushed the door open, peering through the steam. Nothing. Damn. Just a pile of towels. Just in case, I walked over and prodded it with my toe. Where _was_ he? Where else could he be? I turned to leave…

…And stopped. Turned back. Had I seen something? Movement? What was it? There wasn't anyplace to hide in the little bath…

…Except for in the murky, mineral-laden water. For the love of the Gods_._ There it was. The tip of a reed. For the love of the Daedra. I squinted, and could just make out the outline of a fully-clothed man sitting calmly underwater.

Oh, for the love of _Sithis._ I couldn't believe it. I could not fetching believe it. I…just…I…_Aaaarrrgh!_

That did it. I stomped over to the edge of the bath, scooped up a double handful of water, and poured the lot down the reed. There was a brief moment of silence, during which I wisely used the opportunity to run like hell.

It ended…well, pretty much how you think it ended. Oh, I could describe how he came thundering out of that bath like the wrath of the Gods, sopping wet and splashing water everywhere. I could tell you how I got tackled and the two of us went headlong into the Dark Guardian. I could even mention how I got a chance to see exactly how nicely defined his chest was underneath that wet shirt of his.

But suffice to say, Vicente finally got me to demonstrate my wrestling skills. And I got to punch Jontan in the face. And Matthieu almost slipped and broke his neck on the wet stone. So I suppose the whole embarrassing debacle worked out in the end.

Especially with the slipping.

Oh, and skintight leather feels really, really odd when it's wet.

"Remember, it's skin," Jontan commented when he saw me rolling my shoulders with a displeased look on my face. "You're just borrowing it for a bit."

"Thanks. I can't tell you how much _more_ creeped-out that makes me."

He laughed as he climbed to his feet. "Wait until it isn't water, Sister. I could tell you about this one contract of mine…" he got a bit of a faraway look, "Soaked me to the skin. I was as red as Dagon himself when I finally peeled out of my armor."

"Bleah."

"That upsets you, Sister? From what I heard of your first kill, I'm a bit surprised."

"I…" I bit my lip. _I'm actually trying my hardest not to think about peeling you out of your armor. It's not that I wouldn't really, really enjoy it, it's just… _"Sorry. I'm not very…"

He laughed, a soft, warm sound that did interesting things to my insides. "No, you did good today. I think you'll fit in just fine." He patted me on the shoulder, then reached up to touch his still-tender eye. "You've got a mean right hook, too."

"Um…I…" I ducked my head. "I can fix that."

"Nah – I've got to show it off to the others when I make my rounds!"

I looked up so fast that I nearly gave myself whiplash. "Others? Rounds? What others?"

"Oh, yeah…I'm technically a member of this Sanctuary, but I travel a lot. See the sights. Eat foreign dishes. Stab new and interesting people. It's a good life."

"You have a thing for the stabbing, don't you?" I slapped a hand over my mouth and turned red. _Cripes! What kind of thing to say is that?_

"Eh – no more than you have a thing for the punching." He pointed at his eye and I went even redder. "I'll assume that – in the middle of training like you are – you probably hate stabbing with a passion right now." When I groaned, he laughed again, and lowered his voice to a confidential whisper. "Yeah. Vicente trained me too. I have this theory that his obsession with blades really actually means he desperately needs to get laid."

I went _violently_ redder, and from across the room we heard: "Jon_tan_…"

The dark-haired man winced. "Did I mention he's got damn good ears? But seriously, I don't think he's gotten any in at _least_ fifty - "

"_Jontan Blanchard!"_ The name had all the same intonations Antoinetta's had the last time she tried to cook. I'd swear that everyone in the room who'd been trained by Vicente – meaning _everyone_ but the Argonians – flinched visibly.

"And _that's_ my cue to leave!" He grabbed my hand, pressed his lips to my knuckles, winked at me, whispered, "I'll be seeing you," and scurried up the ladder like a Tang Mo.

I was quite articulate, and managed an "_Eeeeyah_-wuh?" in reply.

A clawed hand patted my shoulder. It had to pat several times before I stopped staring open-mouthed at the ladder and turned to see Ocheeva smirking at me. "He is not unhandsome for having no tail, is he not?"

This time I blushed so hard I was surprised my armor didn't heat-dry. "H-he seems…um…he seems nice," I stammered.

_Smooth, Cla'nee. Real smooth._

"He is very good at seeming nice, yes. Luckily, to us Family, he truly is." She studied my face. "And it is good to see you smile for true, Sister."

At that point, I realized I had a silly grin plastered to my face. And try as I might, I couldn't get it to go away.

Not. Good.

Ocheeva patted my shoulder again, hissing out her gravely laugh. "He does have a special way with the testing of new Family members."

_Wait. _"This was a _test?_" My mouth fell open. "But…but…the teasing! A-and the face he made! And I _punched_ him!"

"Do not worry. It was not an official test of any kind, no. Jontan was merely satisfying his curiosity."

There was something hiding behind her words, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what. I decided it was some new odd quirk of the Brotherhood and I'd probably be much happier if I ignored it and waited until it just went away. Sure, it hadn't worked for Mathieu or M'raaj-dar yet, but there was still hope.

"About what?" I asked instead. "What kind of test could that have been, with all that…underwater stuff?"

"Let me see if I am able to explain. We are paid to do what our clients cannot, yes?"

"Right." I rubbed at my arm. I'd pulled a couple of muscles in the slippery, wet, altogether-too-much-fun wrestling match. "To kill our targets."

"Not precisely – we are paid to kill our targets _without being caught._ You were able to find him before he was able to surprise you." She looked amused. "I would be guessing that he considered being underwater to be a sufficient handicap to even the odds. You see, Sister, any fool, they can stick the sharp end of a sword into a body. We are paid to do so discretely. And, at times, not so discretely." Her eyes strayed to the puddle on the floor and the Dark Guardian, which was sort of…lying on its side and clicking at people.

"I'm _really_ sorry about that."

"Sithis forfend that Jontan should visit and the Sanctuary remain in one piece," Vicente commented in a dry voice as he walked over. Jontan's words bubbled up in my brain and I could not meet Vicente's eyes for the life of me. I was afraid that if I did, I'd either burst out laughing, or blush so hard my face would stick that way. The vampire looked me over, lips pressed together, and lifted his hand to flick my forehead. "Do stop thinking about what he said. For all of our sakes."

I scowled, rubbing my head. "Trust me. I really, really want to."

"I suppose I could set you to cleaning up after Schemer for a while. The scent of rat droppings is quite the head-clearer."

_Ergh._ "Did Jontan say something? _I_ don't think he said anything."

"Smart girl." Actually, he looked amused. If I were to guess, it was probably a private joke between the two. I filed it firmly in the 'I _don't_ want to know, ever, please dear Gods don't tell me' part of my head. "Out of curiosity, how _did_ you manage that? You're not nearly wet enough to have jumped in after him."

"Er…Ipouredwaterinhisreed."

"Beg pardon?"

I cleared my throat. "I poured a handful of water down the reed he was using to breathe with."

Vicente's lips twitched. Ocheeva blinked at me, beckoned to her brother, and rasped something into his earhole. Then _he_ blinked at me. "Whatever possessed you, Sister?"

"Um…I was annoyed at him?"

The vampire snorted. The two Argonians broke into hissing laughter, Teinaava finally gasping out, "Oh, I will not allow him to forget this anytime soon. You must tell M'raaj-dar, yes?" He raised his voice, beckoning the Khajiit over. "M'raaj-dar! You must hear this from Cla'nee!"

I saw M'raaj-dar's ears perk up when he heard his name and then lie flat against his skull again when he heard mine.

"Er…" I began inching away, eager to get out of the heavy, wet leather and not talk to the grumpy cat. My muscles were aching from the hours of sparring and the 'I-swear-I-didn't-enjoy-it-that-much' wrestling, and the adrenaline had worn off. I swore I could hear the siren call of my bed. "I'll go change, okay? You tell him."

Teinaava nodded at me, and I walked away. I was just inside the door when I heard Vicente calling my name. I turned as he walked up to me. "Please, _please_ don't tell me I need to do some more sparring. I swear I can't feel my arms."

"Oh, no, Sister. Nothing of the sort. To tell the truth, I think you may be ready to undertake another contract."

My first impulse was to…well…throw my arms around him and then do a happy dance because I was so damn excited to get out from underground. Thank Mara I was too exhausted to do that. Have you any idea how embarrassing that would have been after everything? Instead I gave my fist a weak pump into the air. "Yay. Lemme sleep for a week and I'll get back to you on that."

"Do not worry. It will be an easy one, and you will not have to travel very far. Just to a small village outside city walls." I opened my mouth and he nodded. "Yes, you may sleep first."

"Gods bless you, vampire man."

He laughed, and patted me gingerly on the shoulder. "I will leave the contract beside your bed. Oh, and Telaendril should be able to help you with your armor."

"Help? Why, because it's wet?" I knew wet leather got stiff. There was this one time way back when I was still a thief, and a guildmate had stayed out in the rain all night to case a house. He managed to get some good take from it – almost enough to cover the cost of the armor that had dried and stiffened beyond repair. Armand never stopped using him as an example of being, as he put it, dumber than a heavy lock on thin wood.

"Partially." He nodded his head at the straps. "Mostly because I know from experience that it is extremely difficult to undo the buckles whilst your gloves are wet. I often wonder why the armor must be in one piece."

_Because Sithis is a damned dirty old man._ "Right." I tried one, and my fingers slipped right off of the metal. "Oh, this _will_ be fun."

"Contract in the morning, Sister. Pray that you are out of your armor by then." He ducked back through the door, smiling and leaving me glaring at my leather-covered hand.


	16. Chapter 16

-Chapter 16-

Wake up. Cold. Don't want to get up. Have to get up. Supposed to do contract. Sit up. Wrap blanket around shoulders. Put feet on floor.

Correction: put feet on rat sleeping on the floor. Scream. Get little ratty clawmarks all over ankles as rat wakes up, flails, and takes off running. Fall off other side of bed. Land in very undignified, ass-over-teakettle, blanket-over-head position. Floor damn cold. Rat preferable.

I pointed a finger in the general direction of the snickering. "Whoever that is, so help me, if I see so much as a _smirk_ on your face when I stand up, I will borrow some of Vicente's poisons for your breakfast tomorrow."

"She fits in well now, does she not, my brother?"

"Oh yes…though I think she could be perhaps more graceful, my sister."

_Aw, hell._ I rolled over onto my hands and knees, pawing the blanket off of my head. Sure enough, Ocheeva and Teinaava were looking over in my direction with identical grins on their faces. I'd never seen so many teeth in my life.

"Er…hi?"

The identical grins widened as I picked myself up off the floor. Gods. That was creepy. Very deliberately, I turned my back on them, running fingers through the nighttime tangles in my hair, working them loose with a wince. Really, I was getting more and more glad I'd decided to start wearing nightclothes to bed, even if I did have to borrow them from Antoinetta. That would have been even more embarrassing had I been naked. Nearly hiking the hem up to my chin when I was upside down notwithstanding.

At the thought, I straightened the long shirt I wore, glancing around to make sure the Argonians were the only ones in the room. It wasn't so bad being almost nude in front of them. They didn't care about breasts, not being mammals. Teinaava'd once referred to mine as 'superfluous squishy parts'. I honestly never could decide whether or not I should have slapped him.

Thankfully, they were the only ones, save for the rat glaring at me from under Gogron's bed. And sitting on my bedside table was a precisely folded piece of parchment that I was certain hadn't been there the night before. Curious, I picked it up and unfolded it, yawning.

Huh. It was my contract. I suppose I was a bit surprised – I mean, the last contract I'd gotten by hand. Over breakfast. Though it did make sense. Vicente's whole day, and often his nights as well, were spent training us. There wasn't any reason for him to take the time to walk everyone through their contracts.

So then…I was a little more trusted to handle myself this time, right? A little bubble of excitement caught in my chest. I could do it. I would. I'd been training for ages to be able to do it. Catching my lower lip in my teeth, I began to read.

Harlun's Watch sounded familiar. Wracking my brain for a moment, I remembered. Gogron and Telaendril had been talking about the little town. It was a community of farmers just outside of Cheydinhal proper. And apparently, they grew really nice carrots.

Oh yeah – I don't think I mentioned. Gogron liked carrots. To be precise, he liked to skewer a couple on the ends of his tusks and laugh at himself. Or sometimes, he'd do his 'Vicente Impression.' It involved two carrots, sucking in his cheeks and trying to talk with a Breton accent at the same time. It usually ended with bits of carrot everywhere and me biting hard on a finger to keep from giggling like a maniac before we were both banished to the Training Room.

Hehe.

Hmm? Oh, no…sorry. Mind was just wandering there for a moment. Er…

My contract, right?

Okay.

So then – Harlun's Watch. For whatever reason someone wanted to kill a farmer. Perhaps a dispute over the carrots. Vicente (via the contract) suggested I simply break into the house and finish the target off swiftly. '_The doors are rarely locked – your skills as a former thief should be quite useful. Once the target is asleep, you can finish them off quickly. It does not have to look like an accident – use any methods you desire.'_

My target was going to be asleep. I didn't even have to pick a lock. I could do this. I could do this. I could do this.

_Just like last time._

The bubble of excitement popped and my stomach twisted. Could I really do this? I'd practiced and practiced, but when it came down to it, would I panic again at the sight of a wound edged with red foam and the way a liquid laugh whistled and spluttered?

"Sister." Looking up, I saw Teinaava beckoning to me. "Come. Eat. You shall be needing your strength, yes?"

"Y-Yes…" Swallowing, I set the contract back down and stood. "Yes, you're right. Food sounds good. Anything prepared?"

"The last of some apples and oats are on the fire," he gestured, smirking. "There may be some that is not scorched. You did sleep through the meat."

"Damn." Grabbing a plate, I loaded it up, forcing my mind to other things. Actually, I wasn't much in the mood for meat. Not while I had a contract. My stomach just wasn't up for it. Or rather, my imagination was a little too vivid. Someday, I was sure, I'd be able to eat with the same relish as everyone else. Until then…ew.

About halfway through my meal, Mathieu walked in and my appetite dried up. Still, I forced myself to continue eating, if only to keep my mouth occupied. I didn't want to get death threats so early in the day. Good Gods, I could feel his eyes on me. It was horrible. Like being eyed by some sort of slimy thing you'd find under a rock. _Predatory_ slimy thing.

You know – I've said that I love this armor, right? I've waxed poetic about it. It fits perfectly in all the right places, comfortable as can be, hugs the body like a second skin and all that. Now, I'd have given my left arm to see Jontan in it, if I wasn't certain I'd need my left arm for getting him out of it.

What? It's a perfectly healthy desire! You shut up! I'll bet you've been having the same sort of thoughts since the very first time you saw this armor. Don't tell me you haven't.

Anyway…I'd just realized I was equally willing to give my left arm to _never_ see Mathieu in it again.

Good _Gods_, the man had a bony ass.

My shoulders tightened, and kept tightening as he flitted about the room, from one cupboard to another. I tried to keep track of the food he touched, just so that I could make sure I never ever put it in my mouth. Seriously. Ew. Even with the gloves. I didn't even want to think about where those pale, long-fingered hands had been – _ohsweetMarahewastouchingme!_

"A new contract I see. Best of luck, my dear, dear Sister. Try not to run away or drop your weapon this time?" he purred at me, patting me on the shoulder as he walked by. His hand lingered just a little longer than it should have. The muscles of my back tightened, sending icy chills through my body. Ocheeva glanced at Mathieu as he walked away, and then at me. I tried to look less nauseated under her gaze.

"Sister – ah – are you and Mathieu – " She blinked for a moment, obviously trying to be delicate. "Are you in courtship?"

I felt myself turn green. So much for less nauseated. Pushing my plate away, I mumbled, "I think I'd…better go get ready."

The twins exchanged a glance. "If you wish, Sister. If you are having issues of some kind…"

"I'll deal with it myself." Grabbing my armor, I ducked into the bath, locked it behind me, yanked the nightshirt over my head and proceeded to try and scrub my skin off.

Why? No, seriously, why? I hadn't been acting like I used to back at the brothel, right? I avoided him, right? Did he like that? Girls who played hard-to-get or whatever? Was I encouraging him without realizing it?

No, that was ridiculous. The Argonians just didn't get the body language of the non-beast races, I told myself, tugging my armor on. And I was too sensitive to what was just a jerkass man hoping I was easy. No one knew. No one but the Speaker. Jontan wouldn't find out. I didn't have to be nervous. Once I succeeded on this contract, I'd prove I was up to being in the Brotherhood, and Mathieu would leave me alone.

Running a hand over my leather-clad arm, I felt a sudden surge of confidence. I was an assassin. A Dark Brotherhood assassin. Or at least, I felt like one in this armor. I tightened some of the buckles, nodding to myself. _That's right. An assassin. Black as the void. Silent as the night._

Turning, I came face to face with Antoinetta. "_Aigh!_"

_Jumpy as a godsdamned cat with a wolf tied to its tail._

"I wanted to see you off," she told me, shifting from foot to foot, looking at me expectantly. Expecting what, I couldn't quite tell.

"Were you watching me get dressed?" I demanded.

"Only for a bit. At the end." Her lower lip stuck out just a bit, her eyes going liquid. "I wanted to make sure you did it right. I didn't do anything bad. I just looked." The hint of tears vanished and she was all smiles again. Holding out her hands, she announced, "I brought you these!"

"Lockpicks? But Vicente said the door wouldn't be locked. I don't – "

"Please?" she begged. "Just in case. I don't want anything to go wrong. If Mathieu is mean to you again, I might get mad."

_Oh. Er…_ "O-Okay. I guess." Taking the picks, I slipped them into one of my pockets and nodded, smiling at her. She was right. Just in case. I'd learned that from the Thieves Guild, and almost forgotten now. Always bring more picks than you'd think you'd need. There's nothing more embarrassing than having to return empty-handed from a mark because you went and broke every single pick you had. "Thank you, Antoinetta. It's…um…very kind of you." I gnawed at the inside of my cheek for a moment, then said more firmly, "Yes. It's very kind."

Reaching out, I took her hand and squeezed it. Her face lit up and she threw her arms around my neck. "Yay! I made Cla'nee happy!" She pulled away, beaming and added, in the same bubbly tone of voice, "Stab to the bone tonight, Sister. And twist the knife. That always makes them scream just right. Sithis says so."

My mouth gaped voicelessly as she half-walked, half-danced off. "Eh? _Eh?_" Against my better judgment, I followed her, wondering if I maybe ought to give the picks back. You know, gifts and all. Did she want something in exchange?

No, probably not. She just liked me. That somehow made it even more unnerving.

Stopping at the table where the Argonians still sat, I raised a shaking finger to point after Antoinetta, who was long gone. Probably to go annoy and/or unnerve someone else. "Was that normal?" I demanded in a whisper. "That was normal, wasn't it? Oh dear Gods, that was perfectly normal."

"She likes you, Sister," Teinaava explained. "I think it is very…ah…cute, yes?"

"Cute," I moaned. "Dark assassin's gods and knife-twisting are not cute."

"But she is cute, no?"

"She's…" I trailed off. Okay, yes, the girl was unbearably cute. All blonde hair and blue eyes and giggles and jiggles. In another setting, she'd be a rosy-cheeked favorite barmaid. Or the barely-verging-on-plump wife of a farmer. But here, she was the not quite stable, not quite sane, giggles slightly too high-pitched, eyes just a little too sharp, gaze just a little too brittle, poor little thing I wanted to protect and shove away at the same time. "Okay, yes, she's cute. Creepy as hell, but cute. Can I go?"

The Argonian waved a hand at the door. "Go – just…" He studied me for a moment, eyes sharp, and repeated, "She likes you, Sister. Take care of her."

"Uh…sure." I pulled my hood up, eyeing him as I walked out the door. Take care of her? Why? She'd been here longer than I had. And I was pretty sure it was Telaendril who was assigned to care for her.

Oh shit. Did this mean it was my turn to do that now? If I failed? Don't get me wrong, I liked the girl. I just didn't want to…babysit her.

Those nerve-wracking thoughts kept me busy until I snuck my way out of the city, though my worries did spare me a brief moment of surprise to find out that it was nighttime. How long had I been underground? It was still winter – the biting cold let me know that – but what was the date? I honestly had no idea.

It was just as well it was night, I considered. After all, I hadn't bought anything to cover my armor with, and it would be horrifically suspicious to wear it during the day. I winced inwardly. Another damn fool mistake on my part. At this rate, I was going to get a free tour of the count's prisons. Briefly, I considered going back and grabbing my cloak, but I put that thought out of my head pretty fast. First of all, it might be recognized and I didn't want to wear it over the armor. Help the guards put two and two together the next time I wore it out. Secondly, I'd have to admit my mistake. With Mathieu around…well, I'd rather go with the prison tour, thanks.

But despite my fears, the guards at the gate once again paid me no attention at all, not even glancing at the big black handprint on my armor. Fine by me. If they pretended I didn't exist, I'd do the same. Live and let live.

Er…probably not the best Dark Brotherhood motto, but you get my point, right?

The ground was still covered in snow, though it wasn't new, crisscrossed with hundreds and hundreds of footprints. The streets and roads had been packed down into patches of ice – I carefully skirted those, not wanting to be the first Brotherhood assassin to be caught because she fell on her ass and broke a hip.

But not snowing – good thing. Less cold. Not wearing a skirt – also a good thing. No numb legs. I liked leather, I decided. Leather was pretty damn good. It still creaked a little, being more-or-less new, and maybe a little stiff from the bath yesterday, but damn good. It had been a very long time since I'd had warm legs outside.

In the distance, further down the road, I caught sight of a flickering light. A flickering light steadily getting closer. I squinted at it, trying to figure out who was holding it. The only people out on the roads this time of night were thieves, murderers and -

_Oh crap! Legion!_ Sliding off the road into the underbrush, I curled up and tried to think bushy thoughts. Bushy thoughts about looking a lot like leaves and twigs and not at all like a panicking girl who was just starting to realize that leather really _wasn't_ that much warmer than a dress if you insisted on lying stomach-down in the snow.

_Think like a bush. Just think like a bush… _I held my breath as the horse and its torch-bearing rider slowly clopped past me, accompanied by the slow creak and clang of heavy armor. Legion, all right. And I would bet serious gold that this guy wasn't anywhere near as assassin-blind as Cheydinhal's guards were. And now my leather was wet. Again. And I was _so_ damn cold it wasn't funny.

When he was gone, I climbed gingerly to my feet and checked the road to make sure it was completely empty before heading on. Gods. That could have been bad. The only thing that could have made it worse was if he'd been a former customer or something. Someone who might mention to the Madam that he'd seen me. The thought sent a chill down my spine and gave me fresh resolve as I came up on Harlun's Watch.

Not going to go back. Not ever. Not in a million years. I'd put my dagger through my heart, first. Or someone else's.

The tiny town was asleep. Not a single light shone in the windows. All I could hear was the soft noise of sleeping animals. Feet crunching lightly over the snow, I stepped between the rows of withered plants. I glanced around, looking for the right little farmhouse. _That tree…the barrel in the corner…there._

It was just as dark as the other houses, but I crept towards it as slowly as possible. Armor 'black as the void' was all well and good, but against a whitewashed house in the snow…okay, it was pretty useless, for all its comfort. A bit more useful than my brightly-colored dress, but still not exactly invisible. And even if the front door were unlocked, it faced all of the other front doors. And front windows, too.

But farmhouses had cellars, right? To store food in for the winter. A small part of my city-girl mind was certain I'd heard this. And cellar doors were usually around the back. So therefore, if I was lucky, I could sneak around the back, get into the house that way, and probably not be seen. Probably.

Hey, it was worth a shot. I considered the strip of white between me and my target. _Just run. Head down and go. At worst, you'll be mistaken for an animal._ Deciding to listen to my brain – for once, yes, hahaha – I did just that, and then plastered myself to the back wall of the house and listened for anything that may have been a door creaking open.

Nothing. Good.

Ha! And there was the cellar! Great!

Aaaand…there was the nice, big padlock on it. Fan-tastic. _Why_ was there a padlock? Who wanted to steal jars of pickled radishes when _Cheydinhal_ was a five minute walk away? You know – rich city, lots of nice houses, guards apparently ordered to look in the opposite direction the instant they saw anyone wearing black after sundown? I shook my head in disbelief as I crouched to examine the lock in the moonslight.

The lock was cheap and I had it open in seconds. Gods bless Antoinetta and her lockpicks. Really. Otherwise, I'd be back in the bushes, building up the courage for the front door. Instead, I was breezing through the easiest lock I'd had to pick in a long while. Here's a tip – if you really want to protect something, get a less-impressive-looking lock. No really. You're not fooling anyone. It's just an empty boast. Big means nothing. Small and trapped, that's the way to go.

Quietly as I could, I opened the cellar door and dropped down inside, blinking until my eyes had adjusted to the dimmer light. Slowly, jars and barrels began to form out of the darkness in front of me, dried herbs hanging from the rafters. The whole place smelled earthy and inviting and a little sweet.

Up above me, I could just barely make out the outline of a trap door, with – thankfully, given my height – a ladder leading up to it. (I may or may not have walked right into the ladder in the dark. I'm not telling.) Climbing up, I tested the door. Not locked. As I had quiet flashbacks to the Inn of Ill Omen, I pushed it open a bare inch and glanced around.

Room – mostly dark. Bit of light coming from a window above the bed. In the bed, I could see the outline of a figure beneath the blankets. It looked asleep. However, if I'd learned one thing in my time with the Brotherhood, just because something looked asleep didn't mean that it wasn't going to fly out of bed, swinging and snarling just because you accidentally bumped its little box of personal possessions.

I _said_ I was sorry. Damn lapcat didn't have to set me on fire.

Um…so…yeah, anyway – I was very cautious, tiptoeing my way over to the bed. Just in case. Not a peep. The man didn't even snore. Good. I'd found the target, he was asleep, everything was perfect. Yay for me. Now I just had to…had to…um…yes, kill some random man I'd never even met, for no particular reason, who could actually really be a terribly nice gentleman who'd just happened to really piss off the wrong person.

Okay, yes, when you say it like _that_, of course it's going to sound bad. Shut up.

Staring down into the man's sleeping face, I wet my lips. 'Any methods I desired' the contract said. Maybe I could smother him with a pillow? No…that would take too long. If he woke up, so would everyone else. Poison – if I'd even brought any, would take even longer. It had to be the dagger.

Shit.

The scrape of the dagger leaving its sheath sounded way too loud. Staring down at the blade, I swallowed. I'd trained far too long to chicken out now. I hadn't stabbed that damned combat dummy for hours on end to just panic and fail again. No. This time would be different. If I said that enough times, it had to be true. My fingers tightened until the leather glove bit into them. This time. This time I would do it.

In one move, I covered the target's mouth and plunged the dagger into his belly. I was almost shocked at how easily the blade slipped into him. Just like Vicente said it would be. Pulling it out, I stared at the dark blood on the blade, turning it back and forth in the dim light, then stabbed down again.

_You have a thing for the stabbing, don't you?_

This time, his entire body arched with the muffled scream, jerking me out of my trance. I almost pulled my hand away in shock. What – what had I been doing? I could feel the man's eyes on me, but he wasn't seeing me. I didn't think he was seeing much of anything after two stabs to the gut. By now – my healer's training told me – he would be going into shock from the pain. Not blood loss. Not yet. I didn't think I'd hit anything big.

I kept my eyes on the blood and my hand on his mouth. _Don't meet his eyes. Don't let him talk. Don't._ My stomach turned when his body convulsed with a disgusting noise and I felt warmth on my palm through the leather. He clawed at me, nails scraping at my glove. If I hadn't been wearing the armor, I'd have been bleeding by now.

"Stop it," I whispered, and twisted the dagger as hard as I could._ Remember your lessons – gut wounds bleed slow. Stupid. Stupid. Stab something else. Throat. What if I miss again? Heart. _Pulling the blade free, I aimed – and it skidded off of his ribs. _No! Stupid. Relax._ Sweat was prickling down my spine, making me feel clammy in my armor. The man was gaining some strength back in his fear, and he outweighed me. If he realized that, he'd fight me off, easy.

_Just stab him again. Or slit his throat. Come on._ I couldn't aim. I was shaking. _Should have poisoned the blade, should have – _

I don't know what quite clicked in my head, but something did. I stopped thinking. Vicente's lessons took over. The next strike slid cleanly through the man's ribs and into his heart. The same strike I'd practiced over and over and over. Only this time on a real person.

I think I stood there for half an hour, just staring at the dagger I held. It could have been just the hilt – not a bit of the blade could be seen. For a moment, I felt a little like a child, holding a toy sword. You know how you'd take it and slide it beneath your arm and play dead? Stabbed through the heart, with a scream, falling to the ground and twitching. I guess you don't really scream. You just…die.

When I finally pulled the dagger out, I prepared myself for a gush of blood. But nothing happened. A little oozing, no more than the wounds in his stomach. But that made sense. His heart wasn't beating. The man was long dead – really dead – and starting to stiffen, cold as his little farmhouse. I didn't even know his name, this time. Did that make it easier?

Little lights were popping in and out at the corners of my eyes as I wiped the red-stained blade on the sheets. When the room did a sharp spin to the right, I realized that I was breathing so fast my lungs ached. I had to grab at the bedframe to keep from sitting down all of a sudden. My dagger fell from my hand and clattered on the floor.

"B-Breathe…" I gasped, trying to will my heart to stop racing. "Breathe. D-Don't leave your…your weapon behind." Lowering myself to my knees, I picked my dagger back up and shoved it into its sheath, wincing at the red smears my fingers left on the floor. Grabbing at a corner of the bedsheets, I scrubbed them over my hands.

Well…it hadn't been pleasant…but I'd done it. I'd killed someone without being angry. Maybe even…enjoyed it a little. At the beginning. Maybe. A little. Before I started trying to faint. Did I enjoy it at the end, too? Maybe. A little.

I pressed my now-clean hand to my face and wobbled. _I've got to get out of here. Because…because I don't want to be discovered. I don't…want to…to hang around a dead body who was alive and breathing and…_

_Just a bit ago…_

_And I stopped it._

Lowering my hand, I stared at the corpse. Wait. I _had_ done it. Really done it. The wobbles and illness began to fade. I. Finished. My. Contract. That was the important thing, right? I'd done it.

Holy shit. Everything had gone right. Who'd have thought?


	17. Chapter 17

**-Chapter 17-**

When I returned to the Sanctuary, I was breathless, grinning, and a little disgusted with myself. But proud. I'd done it! I'd _done_ it! It was easy!

Okay, maybe it wasn't _easy_…but I'd done it. And I was high on my own success. Dancing in the clouds of Aetherius. Not to mention with Antoinetta. She was waiting for me just inside the Sanctuary door and I grabbed her hands, spinning her around. "I did it, 'Netta, I did it!"

"Did the lockpicks help?" she asked eagerly. "Did they?"

"They helped a whole bunch." I squeezed her hands. "Thank you."

"Oh – I'm glad! I'm glad! And…and Vicente wanted me to give you this!" She pulled away and dug about in her pockets for a minute before letting out a triumphant cry. Shoving a folded piece of paper at me, she bounced excitedly from one foot to the other. "Read it, read it, read it!"

Taking it from her, I flipped it open and read quickly through it. Then I read it again, my mouth dropping open. "I've…been promoted? Seriously?"

With a happy noise, Antoinetta flung her arms around me. I dropped the paper to catch her and keep her from ramming her head into my face – if for no other reason than it would be really embarrassing to have to explain that particular bloody nose. "I knew it! I knew it! We're both Slayers now, isn't that wonderful, Cla'nee?"

"But, I didn't – "

"Don't get such a large head about it," I heard M'raaj-dar grumble from the other side of the room. "It only means Vicente assumes you aren't Legion in disguise and can hold a blade without accidentally slitting your own throat. I, on the other hand, am not so optimistic as to your motives or your abilities."

"You're so mean! Why are you so mean?!" Antoinetta hugged me tighter and stamped her foot. "Cla'nee's not Legion, and she'd never lie to us, and she did this contract really good, and I like her. So there, Mr. Grumpy-Whiskers!"

The Khajiit turned and stared at her for a moment with incredulous eyes. "You – I – ah – Sithis, Antoinetta!" I could see the fur on his tail starting to stand on end. _Oops. Time to leave._ I grabbed the girl's wrist and dragged her away. Safe inside the Living Quarters, the two of us dissolved into giggles, holding each other and laughing until our sides hurt.

"He's not really mean," Antoinetta told me when the giggles began to subside. "He's just grumpy. I have to tell him I'm sorry, later."

"No, you don't," I answered, snickering. "He _is_ mean."

"No, really! He's really nice once he gets used to you. He used to be mean to me, too. But then he got nice. He'll get nice to you, too. C'mon, you should go change. The armor gets kinda sweaty and icky after a contract."

I wasn't sure I believed her – but he was nice to Antoinetta. I couldn't really deny it. And at least she wasn't insisting Mathieu was nice, because nothing in the world could get me to believe _that._

She was right about the armor, though. One of these days, I really needed to learn not to get it wet. Telaendril gave me a look of complete exasperation when I held it out to her. "What happened?"

"A Legionnaire came along and I hid," I said mournfully.

"In what? A snowdrift?"

"I hid in the bushes. It wasn't my fault they happened to be in a snowdrift at the time."

Chuckling, she took my armor from me. "Are you certain you didn't just slip and fall?"

"I didn't! I just…thought the snow wasn't as deep as it was when I jumped into the bush." I gave the bath a longing look. Gods, but the warmth of it – even from this distance – felt so good. I was a little surprised ice hadn't flaked off of me when I peeled out of my armor. "Dammit, I haven't been this cold since – yeek!"

Antoinetta had snuck up behind me and wrapped her arms around me, grabbing at my hands and rubbing them. "Your fingers are purple," she scolded.

"Uh…Antoinetta…?"

"Call me 'Netta again, please? I liked that. I like having a nickname. You could have frostbite! You have to be careful!" She began pulling my hands up towards my shoulders. "You need to warm up."

"'Netta – " I tried to put a stern note into my voice, even as her mouth closed around one fingertip. Great. I was in the middle of the sleeping quarters, bare-ass naked, soaked to the skin, with a murderer sucking on my fingers. If I'd been in a more awkward situation lately, I sure as hell couldn't think of it.

Now, don't get me wrong, I don't mind women. I served a few in the brothel, and they were surprisingly gentle. But I just…

Okay. There's women, right? And then there was Antoinetta. And she was cute as hell, but…it was _Antoinetta_. It was just wrong. She probably had no idea what she was doing, anyway. The girl had the mental age of a child. A very unstable child. So any thoughts were bad thoughts. Bad, crazy, cute, blonde…no no no no no – _no_.

I pulled my fingers away, turned, and ruffled her hair instead. "I'll go take a bath, okay? It'll warm me right up."

"O-kay!" With a huge grin, she skipped off, scooping Schemer off of the floor and into her arms before singing, "Ratty, ratty, ratty, ratty!" as she vanished down the hallway.

_Good Gods. _I glanced at Telaendril out of the corner of my eye, mentally daring her to say a word. Thankfully, she didn't. Simply bundled my armor over her arm and smiled at me before waving her hand at the bath. "Go on, Sister. When you get out, come join us. We'll celebrate your promotion."

Celebrate? I wondered what she meant by that as I slid into the tub, wiggling my toes as the warmth prickled feeling back into them. How exactly did assassins celebrate? Pin-the-Dagger-on-the-Contract? Bobbing for poisoned apples? Was Vicente going to turn this into a set of lessons?

You can imagine the scenarios running through my head by the time I climbed out of the tub, dripping and nervous. But I didn't really have a choice, did I? Unless I wanted to hide under the bed with a very disgruntled rat. Great.

I tugged my dress over my head, took a deep breath, and opened the door…to be met by a beaming Gogron, bottle of mead in hand.

And so, I learned what highly-trained assassins do when they want to sit back, relax, and celebrate.

They get drunk.

And I mean, really drunk.

Because a roomful of killers all drunk off their asses can't possibly end poorly.

It was _great._

The common room was filled with the sounds of clinking glass, laughter and talking. The little table Teinaava usually read at had been covered with bottles and glasses and plates of food. I sat with Gogron on one side and Antoinetta on the other, quietly wishing Jontan were there, but enjoying myself nonetheless. The wine helped. The wine helped a whole bunch.

"So, little girl, where'd you get a name like that?" Gogron half-turned suddenly and made as though to slap me on the back, to be stopped when Telaendril made a diving catch for his arm. Good thing too. The Orc was half-drunk and I probably would have ended up with broken ribs. He gave the Bosmer woman a dirty look before adding, "I've been wonderin'. You half-Khajiit?"

"Of _course_ not!" Antoinetta grabbed my hair and fluffed it before I could stop her. "Do you see cat ears?"

Telaendril laughed. "Sweetie, that's what's called a rhetorical question." Both Gogron and Antoinetta stared at her blankly. "I mean he wasn't serious," she clarified with a sigh.

"I dunno…I bet half-Khajiit are real flexible in good ways."

_Smack!_

Gogron rubbed at the back of his head. "You're mean when you drink, kid."

"And you're a perv!"

"So I like pretty girls – ain't nothing wrong with that." Picking up a bottle, he refilled my mug. "Everyone likes pretty girls. Don't you like pretty girls?"

"Yeah," the wine said for me. "I like pretty girls."

This time, the booming laugh nearly knocked me clear off my chair. "I knew it! Everyone likes pretty girls!"

"I do!" Antoinetta piped, beaming at me. Well…no surprise there. But I quickly decided to drink just a little less wine. Just in case I ended up doing something silly while tipsy. I mean, I'd already kissed Gogron without meaning to. I didn't need to add anyone else to that list.

"I'm afraid I don't," Telaendril chuckled.

"Yeah – she likes a nice, big, Orcish – _mmmph!_"

"So!" The Bosmer was smiling at me a little too brightly, one hand over Gogron's mouth. "About your name, sweetie…this oaf here isn't the only one who's been wondering."

"Well…it's kind of a long story." An expectant hush settled over my Brothers and Sisters as they all turned to stare at me. _Yipes. _I caught my bottom lip between my teeth, suddenly unsure if I wanted to continue. Why, exactly, I didn't know. It wasn't as though my real name was anything of a secret. I just… "I changed my name after – I – I didn't want to have the name my parents gave me, after they gave me up." I shrugged. "It's stupid, really. To think a new name would change anything."

And even stupider to think telling my newest "family" all this would mean anything. But Vicente's words were ringing in my head. _"You need us, girl. You know that, and I know that. And if you don't give us all you have to offer, you will _never_ get what you need…"_

And right now, this seemed a good enough thing to offer. I didn't have to tell them I was a whore. Just a little story from my childhood, right? Something funny. My nickname. No big deal, right?

"My real name is Claennis." I couldn't help making a face. Old Breton name of the worst kind. I always thought that it sounded like a cat sneezing – or worse, a _boy's_ name. Shortening it made a lot of sense when I was fifteen. It still made sense now, to be honest. "Cla'nee was a nickname. While I lived on the Waterfront, I knew a family of Khajiit. The oldest daughter taught me how to steal. The two younger ones couldn't say my name right." I shrugged and tried a smile. "They'd trip over it every time, and they didn't like my old thief name."

"What was that?" Antoinetta wanted to know, breaking the tension I'd imagined. All at once, I felt like a fool. It was just a name.

"Wisp. When they tried to say _that,_ it always came out as…um…" I tried to mimic the voices of the kits, "'Whivp.' Anyway, to them, Claennis became Cla'nee. I think she wanted at least two more apostrophes stuck in to make it a good and proper name, even if it didn't have any of the right letters. I was too young to know the difference. I just thought it sounded pretty."

M'raaj-Dar snorted. "Disgusting. If I knew who that woman was, I'd hunt her down and cut out her tongue for giving you that idea."

"Love you too, Brother. So when I decided that I didn't like Claennis anymore, I couldn't think up anything else to use – I'm not especially clever about things like that. And besides," I shrugged, and lied, "I used to be a dancer. Who would go to see a dancer named Claennis?"

"Bo-oring!" Antoinetta chimed in.

"Um…thanks," I frowned. "I think."

"A dancer." I heard, more than saw Mathieu's smirk. By now I could easily hear it in his voice. "I've never heard of you."

"I don't know. Seems to me you'd be visiting classier inns than what I made my coin at, but I could be wrong. You could be scum."

He let out a hissing little laugh. "Indeed. If you say so, healer. If you say so. Maybe you should – ah – dance for us."

My resolution to not get drunk went out the window and I took a large gulp of my wine. "Maybe not."

He leaned across the table, still smirking, and lifted his goblet in a mocking toast. "Oh, but we would so like to see it."

"I said no. I'm exhausted."

"Fair enough." Sipping at his wine, his eyes glittered at me over the rim of his goblet. "You will dance for me someday, healer."

There were a lot of things I'd rather do than dance for a man like him. Eat ground glass, for one. Go back to the brothel, for another. Hell, I'd even let myself get felt up by the Speaker – as unlikely an event as that was. I was pretty certain I'd have to be shiny, sharp and made out of metal for that to happen. At the very least, I'd have to be soaked in blood and…whoa.

How strong _was_ this wine?

But the subject of my name and my dancing seemed to have been thankfully dropped. The rest of the night wound on with more stories and drinking. At some point, Antoinetta fell asleep on my lap and I found myself playing with her hair while M'raaj-Dar talked about a particularly fun Moon Sugar trip he'd had. I was tipsy enough that I laughed along with the rest when he compared me to some of the things he'd dreamt coming off of it.

Maybe Vicente had been right after all, I thought, twisting a blonde curl around one finger. I did feel more at home now. One of them? Maybe. The thought wasn't as terrifying as it used to be.

Finally, though, people began to drift off to bed after Teinaava fell asleep on his sister's shoulder and started to snore. Telaendril helped Gogron stumble away. Vicente picked up the sleeping Antoinetta and carried her off, leaving me to wiggle feeling back into my legs again. I considered the possibility of a hangover the next day, shrugged, and poured myself another glass of wine in the now-empty common room.

With a smirk, I toasted the ceiling. "Here's to my promotion. Hooray for me."

As I was downing the glass, I heard a door open and close again. I turned to see Vicente, who nodded and sat down beside me. After a minute or two of silence, he glanced at me. "A matter of control, correct?"

My head whipped around so fast, I nearly fell off my chair. "Wha-?"

"Your name. That is why you changed it, was it not?" I looked away. "It's all right. The others are all asleep. They do not know."

"Know what?"

"Lucien told me that you used to be a brothel girl."

"_He-!_" I choked on the words before I started screeching. In a fierce whisper, I continued, "If that…that…_Speaker, _or you, tells anyone else about that, I swear…!" To my shame, angry tears started to come to my eyes. Slamming the mug on the table, I scrubbed uselessly at my eyes. I could feel my ears burning with embarrassment. Gods. I really, _really _didn't want them to know. I hadn't realized how badly I didn't want them to know.

The vampire looked at me oddly as I made little sniffling noises. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a scrap of cloth, pressing it into my hands. "Wipe your eyes, little Sister. There's only a little blood on it."

I dropped the thing like it was red hot. "I'm not crying! I just…I just…oh, _hells._" Burying my face in my hands, I growled, "Dammit. Why d-did you have to say anything? It was just a little story!"

"I simply happened to be curious as to why such a thing bothered you. I assume you desired control over at least one aspect of your life, and your name was the only thing that truly belonged to you anymore?" He examined my face, which was rapidly going red and blotchy. "You don't cry often, do you?"

I gave him a furious glare through my tears. "I n-never cried at the b-brothel. And I was n-never ashamed. They wanted us to be ashamed, so damned if I was going to be."

"Really? I think that you were, even if you were not consciously aware of it. And that is why you changed your name. There was no need, though."

The thing with Vicente is that I could never exactly tell if he was being serious, if he was being sarcastic, or if he was being deliberately infuriating. And every time he was infuriating, I rose to the bait.

"No need? I _wasn't_ Claennis anymore. Claennis was a little girl who could just _be_. She could sit on the Waterfront docks and see it as a beautiful place – not the stinking hole it really is. She could talk to people without wondering what they wanted from her. She could walk around town without being looked down on. She never…I couldn't bear to keep the name. It was just wrong. It reminded me of everything I could have been. My nonsense name is much better, thank you. It means _nothing,_ so it doesn't matter what happens."

"Hm." He retrieved the cloth and set it on the table in front of me, ignoring the dirty look I gave him. "Well, in truth, I could try and comfort you, but I suspect my words would ring hollow. Your life is your life, after all. You've made up your mind and you'll likely just ignore any dissenting opinions I may have."

I bit my lip and looked away. What did he know? Had he been in the brothel? How dare he? I had every right to be mad about it! The idiot Madam, those few violent customers, and worst of all – the way that even the lowliest beggar looked at me with either scorn or pity. "And what opinion is that?"

Vicente leaned back in his chair. "Sister, let me tell you a story. It is about a young man – a member of the Imperial Legion who was sent on an expedition to the province of Morrowind not long after the end of the War of the Red Diamond." He saw the look of confusion on my face and sighed. "A period of civil war in the Empire, between the various members of the Imperial House. As I said, this man was quite young. Young enough to still listen to the tall tales of his elders and to believe in them. He'd heard tales of the so-called 'savage' Dunmer and the monsters of Red Mountain, and longed to try his blade against them."

The flickering light of the candle flame cast sharp shadows over the tightly-pulled skin of his face. Again, I was struck by how very fragile he looked, and how strong he truly was. When was the last time he had fed? He was so gaunt…

"That young man was only a few days into the wilderness when his troop was set upon by a terrible creature in the middle of the night. He was stuck a near-deadly blow, but managed to crawl away. He spent the rest of the night hearing the screams of his friends as they fought and died, yet he had neither the courage nor the strength to return to battle. All he could do was try and heal himself. When dawn came, he looked down upon the bodies of those who had died and swore to hunt down this creature and kill it. So he did. After several weeks, he finally tracked the vampire down and slew it."

My eyes went wide. He gave a quick smile, flashing his fangs. "I am sure that by now you can guess the rest of the story. The hunt took him – me – too long. I avenged my companions at the cost of my own humanity. It was not my choice – I had never faced a vampire before, and I didn't know I had been infected. However, I would never have managed to win that fight had I not turned before then. Become a predator. Learnt of the sweetness of blood." He ran his tongue over his teeth. "In exchange, I lost my old life, my family…Did you know that I had a wife all those many years ago? She is, of course, now dead, her corpse long turned to dust. But sometimes, I wonder…I wonder…

"Little Sister, there are always sacrifices. There is always pain. There are always 'what ifs.' Who knows if Claennis would have become a different woman than Cla'nee did? What might have become of Vicente the man?" He shrugged. "I do not know. And I cannot offer any comfort. But I would like to say that I think that, no matter what else, you would have ended up with us. You have too much talent for death for it to be otherwise. Cla'nee is not a whore any longer. And I hope that you can perhaps be happy here."

After a moment of blowing my nose, I scowled at him. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

He laughed at the look on my face. "I hardly think it could make you feel any worse. I suggest you work on leaving the past where it belongs. Learn from it, but do not allow it to slow you down. Here, you are our Sister. Do not forget that." He reached his hand out towards my head, paused, and asked, "May I?" I nodded, and he ruffled my hair with a smile. "I appreciate you making the effort tonight, by the way. Ours is a dangerous existence. We need you to trust us, or you will be a liability. And I would be saddened if that were the case, little Sister."

I blew out a long breath between pursed lips. I actually did feel a little better, despite being called a liability. I'd never had someone react to me in this way. Usually, once they knew what I was, they either pushed me away, or decided I would obviously jump into bed with them if they just asked. Never had someone just accepted that part of me. Not expecting, or condemning…just accepting.

I wished my own father had seemed half as caring as this murderous vampire was. And I felt a little guilty that I hadn't done the same for him.

Shyly, I returned his smile. "Thanks. Thanks for prying into my past, I guess. I'm still not changing my name back, though."

"I didn't expect you to. And you are quite welcome."

"Out of curiosity, has anyone ever told you you're a meddling bastard?"

He tweaked the tip of my nose. "Probably not many more than those who have told you that you are a sharp-tongued bitch. Go to bed, little Sister."

* * *

A/N: Awww... (You all know I just wanted to write a backstory for Vicente. I won't lie. He's awesome.)

And next chapter, THE _REAL _PLOT.


	18. Chapter 18

**-Chapter 18-**

"Oh…a lady of pleasure, a lady of leisure,

A girl who knows many a trick;

A lady for sale, she'll tell you a tale,

And then she'll -"

"Cla'_nee_!"

"What?" My finger jangled across the strings of my makeshift harp and Teinaava stopped tapping out the beat on the tabletop, looking disappointed. "Was I sharp? I hope not. Do you know how hard it is to tune this thing?"

It had taken me a while to get the tension on the strings just right. And if you didn't look too closely, you'd never guess what the instrument was made of. Okay, I lied. It was pretty easy to tell it was made of ribs. I'd gotten my inspiration from another – less dirty – song. But, I still felt a little guilty. The Dark Guardian was looking a tad lopsided now, you see. But Vicente said that I could, so I was planning to use that as my excuse if Ocheeva had asked.

She hadn't. She'd just giggled a lot, to my everlasting surprise.

Still, the makeshift instrument wasn't too bad – for a slapdash concoction that Teinaava helped me put together out of ribs and a handful of bowstrings. It was really a harp only by its most basic shape, but I wasn't complaining. To tell the truth, I wasn't very good at the harp – too many strings. I just couldn't keep track of them all. Anyway, such instruments were for merchant's daughters and noble ladies. I'd been taught on a lute by Armand, my doyen. The man had the fastest fingers that I'd ever seen, and I'd whined until he taught me a few basic tunes.

Then we found out how much money a cute little girl with a lute could make when she stood nervously in the middle of the Merchants' District with an empty bowl for coins. After that, I'd started singing, too; though my thin voice was reedy at best, it worked well enough for the folk songs I'd sing. Armand was ecstatic that he'd found a safer way for the youngest guildmembers to make some coin and I don't think I thieved ever again after that.

I'd picked up my bawdier tunes when I was older, at the brothel. My voice and figure filled out about the same amounts – not much – so believe me when I say that those tunes had to be damn bawdy to keep the customers' attention.

"No, it's…" Antoinetta stammered, "…it's…you're making Gogron blush!"

"Really?" I peered around behind me. Sure enough, the Orc was slowly turning a sort of blackish-magenta and trying to sink into his chair. How cute! Too bad Telaendril was out. She'd have loved to see this. "Well I'll be. And I didn't even get to the good stuff. Are you sure I can't go a few more verses? Then we can find out if vampires can blush too."

"Let me spare you the suspense and tell you that we do not." Vicente materialized behind me, prompting another discordant twang of strings. "Unless, of course, we've just had a full meal. Still curious?"

"Don't you make _noise?_" I demanded crossly.

"Certainly not, compared to this racket. Ocheeva and I are attempting to organize this month's contracts, and I fear that is quite difficult to do with her stifling giggles every five minutes or so." He turned to glower at Teinaava. "Argonians have filthy minds, I've discovered."

"Oh no – we simply find the mating rituals of Man and Mer to be quite amusing. The musical tradition of the Argonian does not have much room for songs of sex. We allow the Khajiit to, as you say, corner the market on such."

M'raaj-dar snorted over the top of his book, mumbling something that sounded quite crude. Granted, to me, most of the Khajiiti language sounds either like a death threat or an invitation to bed. Sometimes both at the same time.

"Ignore our Brother," Teinaava announced with a wicked grin. "He is just annoyed that there are no females in Cheydinhal for him to practice his charms on. I am to understand that he was considered quite the womanizer back in his –"

"Go straight to hell, dear Brother." Narrowed feline eyes flicked back to me. "Would you start caterwauling something else, _anything _else, just to get him to shut up?"

_Anything else?_ I thought about it, trying a couple chords (honestly, I only had a couple chords to try), and sang, "Look for the girl with the sun-golden locks, and ye'll find what a Septim can buy ye…What _now_?" I demanded of Vicente's long-suffering look.

"Given that I cannot think of an ending to the third line that will _not_ result in poor Gogron choking on his wine, I would like to request something other than a bawdy tavern song."

"You're just a dirty old man," I said primly. "You have no proof that it's not perfectly innocent. She could be selling fruit."

"I am sure that she is. I am over three hundred years old. I've heard it. I have heard _all_ of them."

"How about _The Lonely Farmer's Daughter and Her Magic Carrot?_"

"No."

"Even the verse about the – "

"_Yes._"

"How about the hand motions?"

"Sister…"

"How about the one with the priest of Akatosh and the Sanguine worshippers?"

"_Sister!_" He looked positively shocked.

"What? _I_ didn't write it!"

"What song is that?" Antoinetta asked me, wide-eyed. "I've never heard it."

"If you should teach it to her," Vicente threatened under his breath, "I swear to Sithis and the Night Mother both that your life will be the worst sort of hell I can possibly think up. I simply refuse to be the one to have to explain the concept of innuendo to her."

I swallowed. There was no doubt in my mind that the vampire was both creative and sadistic enough to follow through on his threat.

"I'm right here, you pointy-toothed bastard," she grumped at him, folding her arms and pouting.

"And my threat changes not a whit for that."

"Maybe you should go back, work on the contracts, and pretend all this isn't happening," I suggested with a grin. "Stick your fingers in your ears or something."

"Too late." Ocheeva walked into the room, a sheaf of papers in her hand. Setting them on the table in front of us, she spread them out. "There are quite a few more than usual, and I believe I could use some aid in assigning them. You are welcome to look through, should you desire."

I did. I wanted to see the type of contracts everyone else got. Setting the bony instrument to the side, I joined the others in eagerly picking through the papers. Even Mathieu appeared from the shadows to join us.

"Ugh – a child. I hate children. They thrash about so."

"Ooh, I like this one! You get to cut his heart out!"

"This is somethin' I can really get into! Eh – this one, not really…yeah, this one's good!"

"Here, I think that this one is quite…fitting for you." Mathieu suddenly held out one of the contracts to me.

I eyed it and him warily. I knew, just _knew_, that I wasn't going to like what it said. Still, I also knew that showing him fear or uneasiness was a bad idea. So I reached out and took it gingerly, taking care to not brush his fingers with mine. The closeness made the hairs stand up in the back of my neck, anyway.

Reading through the contract, I felt my stomach knot. It was for a Dunmer in Anvil, one apparently well known for frequenting the brothels. The contract suggested that a Dark Sister with some skills in persuasion and seduction would be best suited for the kill. _It would take little effort to accost the target on the streets, and lure him to a private area for removal_ – I read – _Indeed, a private area would be most suited to this contract. Do try to make it appear as though he had a run in with a less scrupulous organization. Perhaps that rumored gang of female thieves will suit your purpose._

Even Vicente's dry tone of writing didn't remove the sting. I glared over the top of the parchment to see Mathieu smirking at me. How did he know? Only Vicente knew. He promised. Well, Vicente and Ocheeva, probably. She was in charge, after all. And the Speaker knew. Vicente and Ocheeva and the Speaker. Hmph. Anyway, I trusted that they wouldn't have felt like talking, so how…?

Was he guessing? Was it a bluff? Or was I just reading too far into a rather obvious insult? After all, I had just been singing those songs. I'd been expecting a crack like this for a while now.

He leaned forward, his voice low and smug. "Pity that you were too busy for me to have you when I visited that disease-filled shack you called a home. You weren't too bad for a low-born whore. I doubt you recall me though. After a while, we all look the same, don't we?"

Okay, not reading too far into it after all. I was going to cry. I couldn't cry. Not in front of him. And I wasn't going to be embarrassed, either. Men like him wanted girls like me to feel ashamed. And it was in the past. I took a deep breath, preparing to tell him off.

He beat me to it. "Tell me, how is it that a whore becomes a Dark Sister? Did you service our dear Speaker? Or did they recruit you as bait? After all, surely you're more suited to handling a different type of blade than what the _real_ assassins use."

Embarrassment burned off in a blaze of anger. I was so furious that all I could do was stare at him, my mouth hanging open.

He laughed. "I should bed you now. Women are so much sweeter to use when they're angry."

_That _did it. Before I knew it, my dagger was in my hand, and I was lunging at him. I saw the shock in his eyes as he dodged my blade. He dodged the second slash by an even closer margin, the tip of the dagger nicking his hood.

"Stop it! This instant!" I heard Ocheeva yell, but it was distant, as though from miles away. Mathieu was tugging at his belt, pulling out his own dagger. He looked…panicked? Pleased? Both? I ducked under his arm, bringing my dagger up…

Then suddenly, Ocheeva was between us. She sent Mathieu sprawling into the wall with a shove. As for me, I couldn't stop my strike in time, only check it. I still scored a deep gash up the front of her armor. I met her eyes for a split second and saw the flash of pain before she backhanded me, sending me flying.

I bounced off of the chair behind me and watched my dagger clatter away. I was just thinking dizzily that I ought to go get it back when I abruptly had a face full of furious Argonian. I let out a little scream and tried to hide beneath the chair.

"I will not have my family members acting in such a way! You may be new among us, but that is no excuse for such – such behavior!"

"Sister –" Teinaava tried to interrupt. He'd been standing next to me when Mathieu started, so he was probably trying to point out that I'd been provoked. That was nice of him, but I sort of wanted the fault for almost getting the Breton bastard. Don't ask me why.

"No. You know that I cannot make allowances, Brother." She turned the full force of her glare on me. "I do not know what transpired between you two over it, and I do not care. Take the contract that you have."

"_What!? _But, but I -!"

She continued as though she hadn't heard me. "Vicente will give you the information that you need and then I want you out of this Sanctuary. Let your head clear before you come back to us. Oh, and you will be repairing my armor for me, so you had best buy the tools for that while you are away."

Mathieu was sniggering behind her, but not for long. She spun to face him. "I am _not_ yet finished with you, Brother. Not in the least. You and I will speak later. I am very doubtful that you are blameless. The two of you have been at each other's throats for far too long." She picked my dagger up from the floor and tossed it carelessly at me. I fumbled the catch, slicing a finger open. When I looked up again, she had gone, but I could hear her voice floating back up the hallway. "Sithis save me, this Sanctuary is like a hatchling bed at times!"

I heard a muffled laugh, but when I looked back at Teinaava, his face was scrupulously straight. Mathieu, however, was beginning to snicker again so I turned my attention to him.

"You fetching, Oblivion-spawned son of a _bitch_. I wish I'd torn out your throat."

"All right, come with me, little Sister," Vicente grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and began dragging me down the hallway like a puppy. I growled and struggled, but the anger had left me. Now I was just annoyed and disgusted. Annoyed at Mathieu, and disgusted with myself for rising to the bait. At least Ocheeva hadn't kicked me out.

Vicente dumped me on the floor of his room and stood over me, crossing his arms. "Did you not _read_ the Five Tenets, little Sister?"

"I wouldn't have killed him. The blood loss would have killed him. There's a difference." I tugged at the collar of my shirt where Vicente's strength had pulled it all out of shape. "And he_ is_ a fetching, Oblivion-spawned son of a bitch."

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Be that as it may, it is quite difficult to argue semantics with the Wrath of Sithis."

"I don't care! Why am I the one who got yelled at? It's not fair!"

"Little Sister, you were the one to try and stab him. It is perfectly fair."

"He started it."

Vicente chuckled. "Honestly, I have no doubt of that. Do not worry; he will be punished as well. Now, if I may ask, what on Nirn possessed you?"

I waved the contract at him. Taking it from me, he glanced at it. His eyebrows rose. "Why should this upset you?"

"It wasn't the contract so much as the insinuations that came with it. He apparently saw me once before I came here." I rubbed my cheek, feeling miserable. "And I didn't like what he had to say about it – Sweet _Mara_, my jaw hurts!"

"That would be those metal knuckles on the armor," he said, somewhat absently, still reading the contract.

"And my finger, too." I stuck the offending digit in my mouth.

"That is why you don't grab the shiny part of a dagger. Now listen to me, little Sister." He tapped the contract, "I did not intend this for you, but I suggest that you go and fulfill it. To the letter. It is time you learned to use all of your resources."

I stared up at him, finger still in my mouth, "You're pullin' my leg, right?"

"You have skills from the brothel. Useful skills. Refusing to use them is crippling yourself." I opened my mouth to protest and he raised his voice to talk right over me. "I am not implying that you bed the target – though if you need to, go right ahead."

"You _are_ pulling my leg! Why in Dibella's Name would I want to do that? Didn't you just give me a whole long lecture about _not_ being a whore and leaving the past behind and all that?"

He sighed, obviously reaching the end of his patience. "Little Sister, I am merely telling you to use what you know. You failed once because you are not as trained as the others. You simply haven't the time. But you do have your skills, and you can use them to make up for your weaknesses. You know how to seduce, you know how to persuade, and you know how to act. That doesn't make you a whore. Some of our greatest assassins have used sex to get their targets where they want them. If fulfilling the contract means that you simply lure him to the Lighthouse and hold his head underwater; that is perfectly fine. If it means having to slit his throat mid-coitus, so be it. Sithis will show you your path."

Somehow, hearing Vicente talk about killing someone in the middle of sex creeped me out even more than the time he talked about killing children. Maybe because of all the times I'd been tempted to do just that to a customer. Or maybe it was just the thought of him…ugh. Back to the whole necrophilia thing again. "Like hell He is! There's no way in Oblivion that-!"

Wincing at my shrieks, Vicente held up a hand. "Little Sister, please do not make _me_ strike you. You've addled enough brains today. All that I am saying is that you have the resources. You do not have to use them, but there is no shame should you do so. Just as there is no shame in abandoning stealth, killing non-essentials, or fleeing if you must. Do as you must do. I simply wash my hands of this if you get yourself killed because you chose to shy away from a possible necessity. Besides," he smirked at the look on my face, "you may yet enjoy yourself."

"_Bastard_." I jabbed my bleeding fingertip at him. "After I throttle Mathieu, you're next on the list, you know."

His grin didn't waver. "And then what will you do with those two strikes against you?"

I went back to sucking on the throbbing finger, talking around it. "Den I juth have t' hope dat we don' 'cruit anyone partic'arly annoyin'. Thweet Thithith, thith thtingth!"

"Beg pardon?"

"Oh, thod off.


	19. Chapter 19

**-Chapter 19-**

Wow. Anvil had a lot of beautiful women. I mean, a _lot._ As I walked down the streets, I tried my best to keep from staring. Tall, golden-haired Nords…slim, freckled Bosmer…curvy Imperials and delicate Bretons – and they weren't even the last of it! I almost tripped over an icy curb when I walked past a Khajiit with the most gorgeous fur I'd ever seen.

Let me tell you, I was feeling very young and bony and completely out of place by the time I found the bar I was looking for. What I found inside the bar didn't make me feel too much better. It seemed like every table came with a scantily-clad woman with breasts bigger than my head, hanging over a sailor's arm. Necklines and jewelry showed those breasts off to the very best. Skirts were hiked up to show what looked like _miles_ of perfect legs.

And there I was in my thin dress with its muddy, ankle-length hem and hardly any cleavage to speak of.

I mean…comparatively. I think I've very nice breasts, thank you. It's just that I don't flash them at any and every opportunity. I'm built like a dancer should be. I have muscle, not…perfectly placed fat.

I was _not_ jealous. I simply -

Shut up.

Okay – breasts or lack thereof aside – nervousness curled in my stomach and I double-checked the blade at my waist before I sat down. This wasn't the safest of places to be a lone woman. And the others…well, I was pretty sure they knew I was a – _had been_ – a whore like them. I was possible competition, and if something happened, there wouldn't be a lot of help coming my way.

Fine with me. I didn't want help from them. I was _not_ going to sleep with my target. I didn't want to sleep with anyone who frequented a place like this. I _knew_ the kind of person who frequented places like this. Ew. And I didn't appreciate the potions Vicente had handed me on the way out the door, insisting they were the ones commonly given to a Brother or Sister on a contract like this.

Of course I took them. They're expensive potions. Just because I wasn't going to use them, didn't mean I was about to let them go to waste.

As I waited for my drink, I tried to look around the room. My target was a Dunmer – Llavel Telandas. Fond of women, fond of drinking…not a sailor like most of the men here, though. Merchant blood, living off a good inheritance. The contract said he was friends with the brothers who owned this place, so he liked to come here instead of the higher-class pubs. I'd managed to spot three or four Dunmer sitting around the tables, though one of them was clearly a sailor. Missing eye and all.

Did I dare ask people about my target? This was my first contract in a city, and to be honest, I was scared to death. It wasn't a matter of sneaking around anymore. There were guards and witnesses and not a lot of privacy. I couldn't even try to break into his house. He was out all night, and slept for most of the day. Not the best schedule for me. At this rate…

Seduction. Gods be damned, I hated that vampire sometimes.

While I was lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice the man wobbling up to me until he was quite literally on top of me – resting his head on my shoulder. I had a moment of panic before I realized he was just a very tanned Bosmer, not the Dunmer I had first thought.

Despite the relief, I still choked on my drink. Coughing into a napkin, I gasped out, "What the _hell?_"

"Hiiiiiii."

_Oh joy. _I curled my lip at the drunken man. "Leave me alone."

"Youshe sho purrrty."

Oh, sweet Mother. His _breath_. I tried my best to scoot my stool away, but he only followed me, his hands starting to drift. With a groan, I slapped them away. "I said, leave me alone."

Someone tapped the shoulder not occupied by drooling drunk. I turned to see a pretty red-headed Nord smirking at me. She waved a hand at the man. "A piece of advice, since you're from out of town: good luck getting rid of him. He'll follow you home if you let him."

"Oh….good. I don't suppose I can have any help with this?"

She shook her head. "Do I look like I want him on _my_ arm instead? Threats of violence only encourage him, anyway."

"How about actual violence?"

She paused, mug halfway to her mouth, and stared at me. "You'd attack a helpless drunk?"

"If you'd grown up where I did, you wouldn't be asking that question. Excuse me," I waved the little Bosmer barkeep over, pointed at the drunk and asked, "What are the rules about starting a fight in this place?"

The barkeeper rolled his eyes. "Oh Gods be damned, not him again. That damned drunk's cost me a month's profit from women like you already."

"She sho puuuuuurty!"

"So if I were to say…break a bottle over his head…?"

He looked at the drunk, who was now trying his best to drool down my front. Then he looked at me, decided that I was completely serious, and pushed a bottle in my direction. "I'd say that it looks like you've drunk all your wine, miss."

"Why, so I have." I grabbed the neck of the bottle, hefted it for a moment, and then introduced the drunk to my new friend, who shattered spectacularly. To my delight, the man dropped like a rock. Gods, do you have any idea how long I'd wanted to do something like that? I don't think anything in my life, short of wrestling with Jontan, had ever felt so damn satisfying.

Of course, the instant he hit the ground, the brawl began. So-and-so was his best pal in the world, and so-and-so hated his guts for taking his woman, and then there was so-and-so who was just spoiling for a fight – any fight – and took the opportunity to smash a plate over the closest person' head. More or less the same script you saw in every bar fight _ever._

I hid under a table.

What? I'm not stupid. I like not having a broken nose. You should try it someday.

I was staring at a stray tooth on the floor and debating the merits of sneaking out the back when the guard showed up. He was one of the old, grizzled kinds. The kind whose head had probably formed to fit his helmet, he'd worn it so long. He beat one armored fist against his shield until the ruckus calmed, then thundered, "What the hell is it about this time?"

Multiple answers were shouted, along with a basket-load of accusations. Eventually, though, the inevitable finger pointed at me. And another. And another. The guard glanced down at me – a tiny girl huddling under a table – and said, "No, really, lads. Pull the other one." More shouting before he rolled his eyes and asked, "You started this?"

There really wasn't any way for me to deny it. I was still holding the broken bottle, after all. Not to say I didn't _try. _"Nuh-uh. He did. You try and have a quiet drink with _that_ slobbering over you!" I pointed over at the drunk, who was lying on his back, completely unconscious. "The Countess herself wouldn't convict me."

The look on the guard's face said he recognized the man, and it wasn't the first time he'd had to deal with a mess like this. I almost felt sorry for him. Trying to keep order in a port town bar was just about impossible. Herding cliff racers was easier. Hell, herding Telvanni was probably easier. More dangerous, but easier.

He groaned, readjusting his helmet. "Be that as it may…"

"I was defending myself!"

"With a wine bottle?"

I could feel my ears turn red at his dry tone. "At least it was empty."

Another groan and shift of his helmet greeted my answer. "Julianos give me strength."

"If you do arrest me, can I hit him a couple more times first? Please?"

"Hey, you're feisty – I like that!" I peered out to see a young Dunmer grinning down at me. Crouching, he took the shattered bottle from my hand and held it up to the light. "I dub thee Sir Smashalot, protector of women everywhere – or at least the ones in bars." With a bow, he handed it to the guard. "I think you should add him to your ranks. Gods know he's already proved himself in battle."

Everyone cheered. What else could the poor guard do but take the bottle with a grin? "Fine, fine…he started it." He crouched to grab the drunk's collar. "But no more trouble from you, Missy. I'd hate to have to throw you both in the same cell."

Holding up my hand, I promised, "Perfect behavior. Honest." Except for, you know, planning to kill someone in your city. But that's minor, right?

With one last nudge at his helmet, the guard left – broken wine bottle in one hand and drooling drunk in the other. The bar returned to the normal levels of conversation and I breathed a sigh of relief. A knock on the table over my head made me glance up.

"May I offer you some help, miss?" The grinning Dunmer was back, holding out his hand like a well trained manservant.

"Sure." As he helped me out from under the table, I couldn't help making a face at him. "'Sir Smashalot'? Seriously? I don't know whether to thank you for getting me out of that, or to hit you after that horrible bit of overacting."

"Well, I won't be able to sweet-talk the guards for you again, especially if I'm out cold on the floor. Doubt you could get out of it a second time." He grinned widely, seeming unperturbed by my frown. "Lucky for you I was there the first time."

"Eh…I'd have gotten out of it," I lied.

"Perhaps, perhaps…though many say that my cunning tongue can be quite an asset in a tight spot."

"Can it, now?"

"I can think of a few spots where it is especially good."

_Oh my. _Unsubtle cocky little bastard, wasn't he?

That smug grin grew even wider when he saw that I'd gotten his joke. "So what's your name, miss?"

_Uh…_ Feeling like a fool for not having thought up an alias beforehand, I scrabbled about for an idea and settled on: "Jena. It's Jena."

"I'm Llavel. Llavel Telandas." He swept a bow. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Jena."

My target! What luck! "P-Pleased to meet you, too."

He bent to whisper in my ear. "So, Miss Jena…I'd like to get to know you better. What do you say you meet me out behind the lighthouse later tonight? A walk on the beach, a look at the stars on the waves…you look like you're a stranger to Anvil, and it's only my duty as a citizen to show you around."

Even better luck. Even though I could _see_ Vicente smirking in my head. Mind you, I wasn't terribly interested in the man, but I couldn't pass up this chance. Getting my target alone at night, where no one else could see us? If I didn't take this opportunity, I'd never hear the end of it. But I couldn't just jump at the suggestion. "It'll be awfully cold."

"I'll find ways to keep us warm," he offered, an expression of complete innocence on his face. "Come on, country girl. Come see how us port folk have fun."

I resisted the temptation to mention I'd grown up on the Waterfront, and was just as much a 'port folk' as he was. "Well…I think I'd like that."

"I knew you would. The lighthouse after dark, then." Waving the barkeeper over, he gave him a handful of coin. "Give the lady whatever she desires. Not all of us Anvil men are drunkards and boors." And before I could protest the gift, Llavel was out the door, lightly talking about a previous engagement.

Now that he had gone, doubt hit me like a ton of bricks. What the hell was I doing? Was I really going to sleep with this man to get a contract done? Gods. I really was just a whore. For a long moment, I stared down at my reflection in the wine, tinged red. All at once I grabbed it back up and downed the lot in one go.

The barkeeper noticed and smiled understandingly at me. "Liquid courage, miss?"

"You don't know the half of it."

"It's just fair to warn you – that boy has a bit of a reputation." The Bosmer poured me another drink as he talked. "You seem like a nice girl, so I want you t'know what you're getting into."

"Yeah," I mumbled, mind only half on the conversation. "Maybe I shouldn't go. He's nice and all, but he really isn't my type."

"Where are you staying tonight? I've got some rooms still open if you'd like."

Thankfully, I already had my story ready. "Oh, I'm staying at that inn down the road a ways. The one outside the city? Because I'm just not used to the sound of surf. It keeps me up all night."

"Well…" He gave me a dubious look. "Don't drink too much, then. I hear those roads sometimes have bandits on them. There's this weird Khajiit, too…"

I listened absently to his story about this all-knowing – if you could pick out the truth from the lies, that is – Khajiit who apparently ran like the wind. It was funny and strange, and I was starting to feel better.

All right, I told myself. It's not so bad. I'm already getting my target alone. I don't have to sleep with him. Hell, he's the one who came on to me, not the other way around. I didn't seduce him or anything. So I'm not being a whore. It's…infiltration. Using my talents, albeit accidentally. It's not whorish behavior. He invited me, and I'm going to see him and do what I came here to do. It's fine.

After yet another drink, I felt even better about the whole thing. Yeah. This would be just fine. I had my knife, I had my training, and Llavel would be dead before he managed to lay a charming finger on me.

It was getting dark. I had places to be. With one last thanks to the barkeeper, who smiled and told me to take care around odd Khajiit, I tugged my cloak around my shoulders once more before slipping out into the night. Training my steps towards the lighthouse, I set off. A little wobbly and a little unsteady, but all in all not too bad.

At least until an Altmer suddenly stepped out of the shadows and grabbed me by the collar.

"Come here." Before I had a chance to say anything, the woman dragged me bodily behind the houses. With one arm, she pinned me against the stone wall that surrounded the town. Her cold eyes bored into mine, and something in my alcohol-muddled brain began shrieking, _Danger! Danger!_

"What are you doing here?" she demanded. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Nothing! Let me go!" I tried to wiggle away, but her grip was like iron. "Look, if he's your man, I'll leave him alone…"

"Shut up. I want to know why you've got a contract in my city."

I froze, my heart pounding fiercely. "Are you a guard?"

"Don't be so stupid. We have the same Mother – though in your case -" she gave me a sharp shake, looking completely disgusted, "I can't see why. Another whim on his part, I assume."

Why did everyone treat me like I was completely useless? All right, all right, almost no one did – just M'raaj-Dar, Mathieu, and this woman – but the ones who did were really vocal about it. But still…I pulled my own weight, I'd finished a contract, two if you counted Rufio, three if you weren't too picky about the bandit woman.

And in this case, I couldn't even console myself by thinking that maybe she just didn't like women.

Not to change the subject, but I personally believed that Mathieu treated me the way he did was because he was so deep in denial. I mean, I'd heard him muttering the Speaker's name in his sleep, which was multiple levels of creepy for any reason. Seriously, maybe if I just found him a nice young man, he'd get laid and stop being such a prick all the time.

Er…where was I? Oh yes – being assaulted by scary, tall, psycho bitch. Continuing…

"H-How did you know I was from Ch-Cheydinhal?"

"Only Lucien's lot acts like you. You all come sweeping in like you own the place, no thought to subtlety or discretion!"

'Subtlety' says the woman pinning me to the wall. I was starting to feel a little like a dog toy, being shaken around by someone at least a foot taller than I. Her golden skin was turning a lovely shade of violet. "How dare he send one of his here, after all that's happened?" She shoved her finger in my face, and hissed, "If you ever break a Tenet, I will know, and I'll be there to bathe in your blood long before the Wrath gets you. And I will enjoy it."

"Happened? What? What the hell are you talking about? I'm here by accident!"

"Don't you lie to me!" Her arm tightened on my throat. "He sent you here on purpose! First that bastard Blanchard, and now you!" Her voice lowered to a deadly growl. "What is Lucien up to?"

"Lu - ? You think _he_ sent _me?_" I almost laughed, the idea was so bizarre. The woman shifted her arm and pressed her thumb against my throat, eyes narrowing. I recognized the move from Vicente's lessons and my 'babbling helplessly' reflex kicked in. "He didn't, I swear, I haven't seen him since he recruited me and almost killed me and I swear to…to Sithis I've nothing to do with whatever's been going on!"

She glared down into my panicked face for a moment more before she suddenly released me. "Do what you came here for and get the hell out," she snarled, stalking away. By the time I'd gathered my wits, she'd vanished. I was alone on the docks, with only the sound of surf and sea wind.

Well. I was _damn_ sober now. The panic attack cleared my head _right_ up. Holy shit. I all but fled to the beach, reasoning that whatever happened with Llavel, I wouldn't end up scared out of my mind, and with a bruised throat to boot. And I needed something comforting. Any source would do. Even from my target.

After picking my way down to the sand, I spotted him down by some rocks, a blanket folded over one arm, watching the waves roll in. He didn't hear me coming up over the sound of the surf, but when I tapped him on the shoulder, he spun around and beamed. "I knew you'd come."

"Oh, did you?" I shot back, still shaken. "And how did you know that?"

"You're curious. And you've a good sense of adventure." He nodded down the beach. "Come on, there's a little cave in the rocks over there. We'll be shielded from the wind and most of the sea spray."

We made small talk as we walked. I told him I was from Chorrol, a healer by trade, and here in Anvil looking for fresh herbs. He told me about how his father had made his coin with the East Empire Trading Company, and how happy he was to be spending his evening with me.

Now, at this point, I couldn't help but like him. Just a little. He was being a gentleman, or at least as much of a gentleman for a man planning to have sex with me on a blanket in a cave. Okay, he really wasn't a gentleman. But he was better than a lot of my customers. He was clean, well spoken, and no farm animals had shown up yet, so that put Llavel in at least the top fifty percent of my past men.

Oh, I only _wish_ I were joking. Remember when I mentioned the goat?

But all too soon, we reached the little cave, he laid out the blanket, and the time for talking was over. I'll admit I tensed up a bit when he pulled me into his arms.

But…he was gentle. That was the first thing that surprised me. But it was more than just gentle. I'd had a few virgins who treated me like I was made of glass eggshells. Which wasn't exactly bad, compared to how I was usually treated. But Llavel…he treated me like I was made out of _human_.

And good Gods, he wasn't kidding about that tongue of his!

My dress was unbuttoned before I even realized what was happening. The Mer's cocksure attitude was well deserved. He was _very_ good at his favorite pastime. And he was a nice person. For the first time in years, I wished that I could do something more for him than just go through the motions. Maybe not kill him. Tell him there was a contract on him. Tell him to run.

For a single instant, I wondered if I could get away with: "He followed me home. Can I keep him?"

And that's when the Speaker's face popped up in my mind. _Hell_ of a mood-killer, let me tell you. But it knocked some sense into me. A chill ran down my spine when I realized what I'd almost done.

No.

Oh Gods, no.

I almost betrayed my family for _sex._

The mere thought made the chill creep through my whole body. All at once, Vicente's lecture made sense. There wasn't shame in this. The shame was in betraying them over something like this. If I let this man go because of his bright smile and talented tongue, it would make me the sort of empty-headed, easily-led whore that I'd despised even while I was still in the brothel. The ones I'd told myself were the real whores, who'd give away every last shred of their dignity to some bastard just for coin.

I wasn't going to be that kind of woman.

I slid my hand up around his neck, slowly pressing harder and harder against the hollow of his throat, just like the Altmer woman had done to me. By the time he noticed, it was too late. He reached for me and I dug my thumb in, pushing with all my strength. Something cracked. Llavel's eyes went wide, and a horrible rattling noise filled my ears. He couldn't even get a grip on my wrist to pull my hand away. From what I remembered from Vicente's lessons, I was surprised that he was even still conscious.

"Don't," I said. "Don't fight it. There are a lot worse ways to die. Please just hold still." He stared at me, mouth moving jerkily. I shook my head. "It's not what you think."

His red eyes began misting over, going distant. His movements slowly grew weaker and weaker against me. I kept up the pressure on his throat, watching his face with an odd detachment. "I'm sorry about this," I murmured. "Just let go, okay? It'll be over soon."

Finally, he stopped twitching and slipped away. I stayed there, hand on his neck, listening to the sound of the surf, until I was certain that there was no life left in his body. Then I carefully eased him down to the sand, straightening his clothing and lacing him back up. Let them find him with some dignity left. He deserved it after what he'd done for me.

As I stood and buttoned up my dress, I stared out over the waves. My mind drifted back to my first murder. Standing on the shore of the lake, crying. I didn't feel like crying now. I didn't feel much more than a distant regret over the whole situation, really. It was too bad Llavel needed to die, I wished he hadn't, but now there was no taking it back. It really was a pity.

A sudden cold gust made me shiver and reminded me of the cold eyes of the Altmer woman. What had been going on in Anvil? Why had Jontan been here? I needed to go straight home so I could ask Vicente and Ocheeva as soon as possible. Something was going on, and damned if I liked the shivers it gave me.

Pulling my cloak closer around my shoulders with a sigh, I glanced down at the dead man. "You know something?" I told him. "I liked you. I really did. You helped, I think. Vicente was right. I did enjoy myself."

I knelt down and kissed his cooling lips. "Thank you, Llavel."


	20. Chapter 20

(A/N): I want to take this time to thank all of you, my readers. Dark Devotion has hit twenty chapters, over a hundred reviews and 15,000 hits! And it's all thanks to you guys. You're awesome!

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**-Chapter 20-**

Most of the time, I like being female. Especially now that I'm out of the brothel. We're prettier, for one. Smaller and more graceful, too. And softer. People are more polite to us, it's surprising what you'll get with a low-cut bodice, and the guards are less likely to arrest you. They might want other favors, but I think more honest women probably don't get asked for those. I wouldn't know.

But every once in a while, I roll out of bed and curse the Gods for making me be born a woman. Mother Goddess Mara, my ass. I'll bet she doesn't deal with this.

Oh, don't get me wrong. Back in the brothel, we waited anxiously for this time – crossing our fingers and praying it would come. Besides the obvious, it meant a week of freedom from the beds. Granted, we ate so poorly that such respites were few and far between. That made them all the more welcome when they did.

But now, here in the Sanctuary with good food and a bed all to myself, all I had to look forward to was being one of the ones blessed with the urge to curl up and whimper in pain. And I was supposed to go out on contract. And I hurt, dammit.

_And I was out of all the fetching herbs that made this better._

I glared at the innocuous piece of paper lying on the table by my bed and tried to console myself with the thought that I could at least buy some new herbs while I was out. Or maybe pick some, if I was being sent to the middle of nowhere this time. Also, right now, I _really_ wanted to stab someone.

I hadn't talked to anyone about the events in Anvil since I'd gotten back. For one, I was way too tired. For two, I had Ocheeva's armor shoved at me almost the instant I walked through the door. And for three…well…I didn't really want to talk about it. It was embarrassing. I'd gotten beaten up by another Brotherhood member, and ended up seducing my target. If Mathieu heard about either one of those, my life would be hell.

And I…kind of didn't want Jontan to hear about it either.

So a week or so later, I found myself still sitting on all the questions I had about the crazy Altmer bitch and why she'd picked me to shake down. Time hadn't made me any less worried – it just made it harder and harder to bring up.

I mean, what could I say? There was just no way to make it sound good. At all. And at the time, I didn't want to move, let alone think. But I at least managed to drag myself out of bed to the table, where I proceeded to do horrible things to a poor defenseless apple.

Vicente interrupted my assault on fruit with a soft hand on my shoulder. When I glared up at him, he frowned and sniffed the air delicately. Then he shook his head and said, "I am sorry, little Sister, but you cannot go out on contract tonight."

It didn't take a scholar to figure out _what_ he smelled. I went so red that I thought my ears must be steaming. Dropping my knife into what was now applesauce, I protested, "Oh, come _on! _ You must be kidding me!"

"Telaendril and Antoinetta must suffer the same indignity. You do understand that it is a precaution to keep you safe? Vampires are not the only creatures in this world that can scent blood."

"Yeah, but they're the only ones who insist on telling you to your face," I snapped back.

"True. Most will bite first and ask you questions after."

"I'm not getting out of this, am I?"

"Press me, and I shall inform Mathieu that I require his aid in keeping you in this Sanctuary."

"That's playing dirty!"

"The contract?"

I sighed and slapped it down into his outstretched hand. "Bastard."

He gave me his most innocent smile. "I shall be going out tonight, so I shall obtain your herbs for you. Flax seed and primrose?"

I'd _swear_ this man could read my mind. "Motherwort too, if you don't mind. Why do _you_ get to go out?"

He looked a little embarrassed. "I find that it is…safer for me to spend an hour or two out of this Sanctuary at such times. Even I cannot always completely control my hunger."

Sweet Mother, was he saying that he…er…I…er…I suppose it was _sort_ of a vampire-ish compliment, saying that'd I'd…er…taste good…or…er…something…

Er…

Holy _shit._

I covered my face with my hand and waved frantically at the door. A few months ago, this conversation would have terrified me. Now, though, it just embarrassed the hell out of me. Granted, it was probably worse for Vicente. He was so much a father figure for us all, and no father really wanted to know about something like that.

When I dared look up again, Vicente was gone. Thank the Gods. Because now I knew why he tended to vanish from time to time, and I wasn't sure I could look him in the eye for the next few days.

I spent a few moments debating what I wanted to do next, pushing apple paste around with the tip of my dagger. Well, facing the rest of the Sanctuary was probably a bad idea. Especially if I ran into Mathieu. I'd end up having to explain at some point why I wasn't out on contract. I wasn't up for training and I didn't even really have an appetite. I considered the possibility of finding Ocheeva and asking her about the events in Anvil…

Nope. Screw it. I was going back to bed.

Unfortunately, my nap didn't last anywhere near as long as I wanted it to. I was jolted awake when a certain blond-haired, blue-eyed somebody preformed a flying leap straight onto my sleeping form, nearly launching me clear out of the bed. "Guess what, guess what, guess what?"

"Antoinetta…get…off…" I grated between clenched teeth, trying to kick her off of my legs to no avail. She had me pretty well pinned.

"We're getting a new Brother! Lucien sent word this morning!" She bounced up and down, jostling me. "He'll be here soon! I can't wait!"

"Damn it, 'Netta, get off!" I flung my blankets over her head. She sputtered, clawing at them until I smacked her with my pillow. "Down! Off the bed!"

With a squeal, she yanked the pillow from my hands and swatted me right back. Oh no. I wasn't playing that game. I tackled her.

Now, you know, and _I_ know that was a bad idea. But I was grumpy. And in pain. And tired. And I really wanted to get her back for jumping on me. So we…well, that is to say I…I ended up in about the same sort of wrestling match I'd gotten into with Jontan. Only with someone much smaller and softer, and who – to tell the truth – tended to make my heart pound for quite different, far less pleasant reasons.

Mind you, I only realized how very bad it could turn out to be after I'd pinned her to the bed and looked up to see Gogron smirking down at us – no, more than smirking. Bastard was grinning from ear to ear. I froze, even as Antoinetta continued to giggle and wiggle beneath me.

"Oh, don't stop 'cause of me," the Orc told us, happily. "I'll just watch – all quiet and stealthy-like. Go on."

"Like hell." Giving Antoinetta one last shove to the floor, I pulled a face at him. "Perv. What do you want?"

"The new Brother's here." Gogron jerked a finger over his shoulder. "Strange little ratty fellow. You sure you two don't want to fight some more?"

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Sod off, Brother dear."

"Aw." He suddenly let out one of his great booming laughs. "Can't blame me for watching, though. Hell of a lot better way to spend my time than sharpening my axe."

"Why's that?" Antoinetta wanted to know.

The Orc suddenly got a cornered look in his eye. "Er…that is…" He reached past me and patted her on the head. "'Cause you're cute, Sister. 'Cause you're real cute."

She beamed at him, apparently satisfied, then rested her hands on my knees as she pouted up at me. "You're not mad, are you?"

I tried to look strict but just couldn't manage it. No one could stay mad at Antoinetta. Blue eyes and big smiles aside, it just wasn't safe. Not to mention, Gogron was still smirking at me as he walked off. "No, I'm not mad." I tapped her on the forehead and she broke into a bright grin. "Let me put clothes on, and we'll go see this new man."

Since Vicente wasn't around, Ocheeva was taking care of the introductions. The new brother was a rather dull-looking, weak-chinned Imperial. Brown hair, brown eyes – he looked to be the kind of man you'd trip over and not even realize he wasn't a cobblestone. He stared at me and Antoinetta with barely veiled nervousness. We stared back with completely unveiled curiosity. When Ocheeva introduced him as Bendu Olo, we nodded, gave our names, and said nothing more.

Still, there was something in his gaze I didn't much like. Something unpleasantly familiar. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as M'raaj-dar growled something at him and stormed off. Well…at least I wasn't the only one the Khajiit didn't like. Or rather, at least I wasn't the only one who didn't like the new Brother. Really, in both cases, I knew by now not to take M'raaj-dar's dislike of anything to heart, but part of me felt a new and sudden kinship for him.

"Isn't he a droopy, washed-up old thing?" Antoinetta said cheerfully, once Bendu and Ocheeva were out of earshot. "Come on, let's go play with Schemer."

"Aren't you going to show him around like you did with me?" I asked.

She made a noise in the back of her throat. "That was _you_. You're like me, and I like you lots. I don't like him as much. Let him wander around on his own."

Okay. On one hand, disturbing. Antoinetta thought I was like her. That was one of those things I'd been hanging onto. No matter how crazy I was, at least I wasn't as crazy as Antoinetta. The more I had her glued to my side, the more I feared I would snap like she had, poor little thing.

On the other hand, playing with Schemer sounded a hell of a lot more fun than talking to this new Brother. And Antoinetta didn't like him either. Huh.

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Mathieu walk up to the man, all toothy smiles and good manners. Great. That would end well. I wondered how long it would take for him to hate this new Brother, too. Or worse, the thought curdled my stomach, what if they got along well together?

Oh, hell no. I did _not _need two Mathieus in my life. _No one_ needed two Mathieus. No one needed one Mathieu.

Ugh…I was going to have two Mathieus, wasn't I? Damn it.

I played with Antoinetta and Schemer, as I promised, but not for very long. My heart really wasn't in it. Not even watching the rat chase my Sister around the room cheered me up and I begged out of any more. Less than an hour later found me faceplanted in my pillow, wishing I were dead. Or male. Whichever hurt less.

So when I heard Vicente murmur, "Little Sister?" and remembered that he promised to bring things to help, well – I'd have hugged him if I could've moved. Even though it would have put both of us in a terribly awkward position.

"Herbs. Give. _Now_."

"I have already brewed it for you, little Sister."

I raised my head and blinked at the steaming mug that he was holding in front of my face. _Gods bless you, old man. _"How did you…? No, don't tell me – another skill you picked up over the years."

"Given the number of women who have lived in this Sanctuary – including the former Speaker – I consider this skill a form of self-defense."

If the tea hadn't been nearly scalding, I'd have chugged it. I still went ahead and burnt my tongue. Blowing on the tea to cool it enough for a second sip, I asked, "The old Speaker made you brew tea for her?"

"Often." He gave a rueful smirk, moving to sit on Antoinetta's bed. For a moment, I was insulted – before I remembered he didn't want to be too close to me right now. I wondered if he'd gone out for a…um…snack. "She was fond of joking that it was the best use for me."

"What happened to her?"

"She was given a contract to kill Adamus Philida – the Legion Commander. She…did not make it." His face hardened. "The coward summoned the Guard with his screaming, then stabbed her in the back as she tried to make her escape."

"That's horrible," I mumbled into my tea. "I never thought much of the Legion, but – I guess I always assumed they were above something like that."

"Sadly, not where we are involved." Leaning forward on the table beside Antoinetta's bed, he rested his chin in his hand. "I suppose, in a way, we should feel flattered for the fear – but it is difficult to think so when your family members are dead."

"I hope we get him someday," I said – surprised when I realized it was an honest statement, not some platitude. And the same went for a lot of my Brothers and Sisters. Not all of them, of course (I'm sure you know what I mean), but a lot of them.

"As do I. We have lost too many Family members to that man. But as Sithis wills it, we will have him one day." He glanced at the door and then back at me. "Speaking, as we were, of Family – I see we have a new Brother."

"We do. Haven't you met him?"

"Not as of yet. Mathieu seems to be monopolizing him." Vicente raised a brow when I groaned. "You do not sound terribly happy about it."

"I don't know." I rolled my eyes at the ceiling. "I don't want to be M'raaj-dar about him being new, but I just don't like the man. Something about him gets my back up, and if he's spending time with Mathieu, I like him even less."

"Perhaps the fact he is a murderer you do not know well? That would be understandably frightening."

"Or maybe I'm just really testy at the moment," I shot back. "He's not scary. I just don't like him. That's all. I just – " Shit. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was only comfortable around murderers I knew. That meant I was one of them now, wasn't I? So why didn't that scare the hell out of me like it used to?

Apparently, five murders was the line between sanity and insanity. Great. As though I needed one more thing to think about.

" – I just don't think we're going to get along. Like Mathieu and me," I finished.

"Surely things will not be nearly so bad."

"Ha. Ha ha." Looking at him over the rim of my mug, I realized it wasn't entirely a joke. "Does anyone actually like Mathieu?"

After pursing his lips for a moment, Vicente – rather carefully, I thought – said, "I do not think the rest of us dislike him quite as much as you."

"Not hard to do." We fell silent for a while as I sipped my tea. At first, I didn't mind, then it began to get uncomfortable. I longed to come up with something to fill the dead air. The new Brother? My next contract? How exactly he'd managed to buy the herbs I needed, looking as he did? Tell him exactly how Mathieu had treated me? Or maybe now was the time to buck up and ask about Anvil.

_I should ask about Anvil. I should. It's important. Ask. C'mon. Ask. What's the worst that could happen? Ask, ask, ask, ask - _

"Vicente? What does blood taste like?"

_Dammit!_

Vicente gave me one of his looks.

"No, really! I'm curious! I mean, um, I know what it's like when I bite my tongue or something, but I want to know what it's like for you." I shrugged, trying to hide the fact that I was busy mentally kicking myself for chickening out. "There are so many vampires who'll kill for a taste of blood. It must be wonderful."

"Not…terribly so. It doesn't taste much different, as best as I can recall. Though there is something more to it now. Another vampire I once knew…he described it to me as the taste of tears on an iron blade." He chuckled, shaking his head. "He always was something of a romantic. He still enjoys his evenings, even after all those years."

"And you?" I leaned forward over the back of the chair. "What do you think it tastes like?"

He was silent for a long time. Finally, he said – quite simply, "Life."

"Life?"

"A memory of life." His gaze went faraway. "That is why it is best for me to be away or fed at these times. A female's blood smells quite strongly of life, especially those of the races of man. You are yet young and fertile…" He blinked and his mouth snapped shut. Another blink. "Sithis. Forgive me, little Sister. I was too familiar there."

My brain said, _Damn right you were!_ However, my mouth said, "No…I was the one who asked."

I blinked and looked down, half expecting to see my disobedient lips floating separately from my head, making faces at me. I tried again. Only this time, my head and mouth were working together, but had gotten caught up on the word 'fertile'.

"Uh-wait-_huh_?"

Right. Second weirdest compliment ever. The weirdest was the insinuation that I'd probably be a tasty dinner. I rubbed my temples. The worst part was that Vicente wasn't the first person to say those sorts of things to me, and I said as much to him.

No, really. Look, I _told_ you that the brothel had been in a weird part of town. And Khajiit have a really odd idea about what's flattering and what's 'Oh my Gods, get the hell away from me, you freak.'

Vampires might not have been able to honestly blush, but it looked like he was trying pretty hard to. Or trying hard not to laugh at me. Or maybe he just had an odd taste in his mou – _Not what I meant!_

Sweet Mother…let's just skip ahead a bit again, all right? I'm _clearly_ not going to be able to get your mind off of this now, and that's just disgusting.

No, never. Not once. The man is undead, you freak.

Sithis' _balls._


	21. Chapter 21

**-Chapter 21-**

Right. So, you know how I said I didn't think I was going to get along with the new Brother?

Turns out that was a bit of an understatement.

It took about five days for me to absolutely hate his guts. Six to want to feed him to Schemer. With a garnish on the side.

Why did I feel that way? Well, take this example. I was standing around in the common room, talking to Antoinetta. We were laughing over the results of her latest contract. Something about the target running in circles, waving her arms over her head and screeching until Antoinetta finally finished her off. And the girl is actually a really good storyteller. With her energy, she just bounces all over the place, using different voices, gesturing, everything. I was having a blast.

And then Bendu walked up. Now, normally, he just kind of wandered around in a daze, following Mathieu around. When he wasn't dazed, he was leering at us girls. I honestly don't know if he looked me in the eye for those first few days. Too busy staring at everything below my shoulders – though Antoinetta got the brunt of his leers. Which, incidentally, drove me nuts. She was not the kind of girl a decent man leered at.

Yes, I know. But most of the rest of them had manners, right? So why couldn't he?

I think Vicente gave him a contract – something about a pirate captain, but that had to be a load of balls – but I never heard if he finished it or not. Since he was still with Mathieu, I guess he must have the way that bastard turns on you if you slip below perfect.

But anyway, it was obvious he was over here for a reason. He smirked down at me for a moment. "So the two of you…" he trailed off and made a few hand motions. "Eh? Eh?"

Seriously. That's what he did. He broke out of his daze to fulfill his teenage fantasies and ask if I was sleeping with Antoinetta. The first full sentence (sorta) to me and that was it.

I almost put my palm through my forehead.

Antoinetta stopped talking and blinked in confusion when I glared. "What's he talking about, Cla'nee? Is something wrong?"

Not if I could help it. This conversation was going to go really bad if she stayed. Reaching out, I gave her a little shove down the hall. "Nothing important, 'Netta. You go ahead at report to Vicente – I'll answer his question."

"Are you sure? You look mad."

"I'm sure. You go on, okay? Vicente will want you to check in with him, won't he? Go on, and finish your story when you get back." She hesitated, and I lied, "It'd be hard for him to pick it up in the middle, right? So finish it for me, and you can tell him later."

After a bit more urging, she walked off, glancing back over her shoulder at Bendu's leer. When she was out of sight around the corner and I was alone with him, I unsheathed my knife and poked him in the chest with the hilt. "Leave her be, you got that?"

He grinned lopsidedly at me. "That's an awfully big knife for such a little g-_urk_!" I'd flipped the blade around, and was now pointing the business end at his business end. If you know what I mean.

That wiped the leer right off his face. He held his hands up, trying desperately not to twitch anything below the waist. "C-c'mon – you're not allowed to do that, right?"

"I only get in big trouble if I _kill_ you. I can cut off an awful lot of stuff before you die. If I'm lucky, I'll at least be able to break a few bones and heal them up before anyone notices."

I wasn't really sure why I was so mad. There _wasn't_ anything between me and Antoinetta, so I wasn't trying to hide it, so there wasn't much of a reason to threaten to rip the bastard's balls off. I guess it was just the final straw. Just because I didn't have a thing for Antoinetta, didn't mean I wanted him to make lewd comments at her.

"C'mon. I just…I wanna know if she's available, right? I mean, look at those boobs. Those are awesome boobs. And that mouth. I could just – _ah-ah-ah-don't!_"

"Keep this up and you and I are going to have words. Four-letter ones, mostly. Followed by a lot of screaming." I felt my eyes narrow and my jaw clench. The sheer nerve of this…well, I hesitated to use the word 'man.' Like I said, no real man would try and go after Antoinetta. "I don't care what you say to me, but leave her alone."

"Okay! Okay! Just…p-put that thing away!"

Little weasel. I couldn't believe he was actually intimidated by me. I mean, he was a good ten inches taller and hundred pounds heavier, and _I_ was scaring him. It really made me wonder the quality of people the Speaker was hiring. I honestly couldn't decide if I should be proud of myself…or if I should re-examine my own abilities.

Then again, I did have a knife a quarter-inch away from his best friends. Most men would be going throat-up to appease the crazy bitch at that point. Maybe even Mathieu – though I wouldn't be able to bring myself to get that close to…er…"Little Mathieu."

_Ick._

With a shudder, I flipped the knife back into its sheath. He watched, eyes still wide, making sure I didn't change my mind. "Whoa. You really know how to use that thing. Wouldn't've expected that."

"Maybe you haven't noticed, but this is a Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. Who do you think I am, the _maid?"_

"I dunno." Oh, dammit, the leer was back. "Does that involve a cute little short skirt?"

"I _will_ cut your balls off. _Go away._"

"Heh. Too busy with the girls to be good for the guys, is that it?" I felt my stomach turn as he grabbed himself between the legs. My lip curled on instinct. I'd had men like him back at the brothel. I hated them almost as much as the violent ones. The ones who thought they were _owed _something. "You sure you don't want this? Better than a-"

I never did find out how that sentence might have ended, thank Gods. The door behind us slammed open to reveal a fluffing-out M'raaj-Dar, looking more pissed than I'd seen him in a while. He snarled something in _Ta'agra_, then pointed down the hall, claws out. "_Bendu. Leave._"

The man went white, scampering backwards several steps before he slunk off, looking more like a rat than Schemer did, probably to go follow Mathieu around again. I, in turn, slumped against the wall and tried to feel less shaky. Ugh. The bastard was slime and worse than slime. How could he say things like that about Antoinetta? Antoinetta and _me._ I'd never. Never ever.

Mathieu'd probably been filling his head with tales of me. The whore. Shit. He probably knew I was a whore.

No – _had been._ Had been. That last contract wasn't the same thing at all. I got paid for killing him, not for…

"I'm sorry," I whispered to M'raaj-Dar. "I didn't mean to wake you up. H-He was mean to Antoinetta." Swallowing, I asked, "Am I going to get in trouble for fighting again?"

"If that happens, they won't hear it from me, Sister."

My head jerked back in shock. "What, seriously?"

He let out a growling chuckle. "Don't take it the wrong way, I still don't like you. I just like him even less. And no one says things like that about Antoinetta. Now go make a fool of yourself with the training dummies again or something. I've been _trying_ to sleep."

When he slammed the door again, I spent a good five minutes staring at it with my mouth hanging open, certain I'd just dreamed the whole thing. I didn't manage to stop staring until Vicente walked up and flicked a finger against the side of my head. "Wool-gathering, little Sister?"

Scratching at the back of my head, I mumbled, "Uh…yeah. I guess. M'raaj-dar was just nice to me."

"Ah, well…even he has his off-days, I suppose."

Grunting noncommittally, I stared at my feet. A thought tickled at the back of my brain. I really needed to talk to him about Anvil. It had been way too long.

Vicente studied me for a moment, and I just knew that he knew what had happened. "What do you think of our new Brother?"

"In terms of brains, he'll definitely be giving the Dark Guardian a run for its gold." I fidgeted for a moment more, feeling the question pressing itself against the back of my teeth. I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to ask him. "Um…Vicente, can I ask you something? Why did I have to go all the way to Anvil if there's already a Sanctuary there? Couldn't one of them have taken the contract?"

The vampire blinked down at me, brow raised. "How did you find that out? I hadn't mentioned that yet to you."

"I ran into some grumpy old lady who basically threatened to shove my head up my own ass if I didn't stay off of her turf."

"An Altmer?" I nodded and he rubbed his face with a sigh before taking my shoulder and steering me over to the table in the corner. As we sat, he explained, "That would probably be Arquen. You didn't get into a fight with her, did you?"

"Um…no." I tried to look innocent. "What makes you think I'd do that?"

"Do you recall the events that conspired to send you to Anvil in the first place? I think that you would get into a fight with the Dark Guardian if you felt it had offended you. Which reminds me, we need to work on your tact as well as your manners."

I scowled. Great. Whenever Vicente came up with a new idea for lessons, I ended up regretting it. I was pretty sure even etiquette lessons from the vampire would involve pain _somehow._ "No, I didn't get into a fight with what's-her-name…Arquen. Not technically. She was too scary."

"As she should be – she is a Speaker."

My mouth fell open. "A…Speaker?"

"For the last fifty years."

"You're _joking_."

"Hardly."

"No wonder she scared me!" I shuddered at the memory of those cold, slightly crazed eyes. "But why did she threaten me?"

"There is some history to that, little Sister." Vicente leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling and drumming the long fingers of one hand against the other. "Arquen has held a grudge since Lucien was given the rank of Speaker at such a young age. She hates you simply because you are from his Sanctuary. Keep your head down next time you are in Anvil, little Sister. That way you might just keep it."

"Wonderful. Could you let me know about things like that in advance next time?"

The expression on his face was pure innocence – and much better than mine, by the way. "Normally I would have, but I seem to recall a young Slayer who recently caused a bit of a scene and was banished from the Sanctuary before I was able to give her the usual lecture."

"He started it."

"And so he did."

"I don't suppose you can tell me what his punishment was?" I asked hopefully. "It would make me feel so much better."

"That would be a private matter between Ocheeva and Mathieu," The tone of his voice didn't change a bit. When I glared, he added, "Only children wish to gloat over the punishments of others."

So it was going to be like that, huh? The more generous part of my head admitted that it really _wasn't _any of my business. The rest of my head threw itself into a world-class pout.

Luckily, the rest of my head – though very good at pouting – knew better than to pout in front of the vampire. Pouters got extra chores. Cleaning-up-after-the-rat-type chores.

Yes, I do know that from experience. Ugh.

But there were other, more important questions. "Vicente? That Altmer – Arquen – she said something had happened. In between the threats and stuff."

The moment the words left my mouth, a shadow crossed Vicente's face, erasing the smile. He leaned forward again, hand covering his mouth. _What the hell? Did I say something wrong?_ "And?"

"She said Jontan had been in Anvil, too. Is something going on?"

Vicente didn't say much of anything for a very long time. His thin shoulders looked tight beneath his tunic. The hand not covering his mouth rapped a tuneless beat against the table. Finally, almost reluctantly, he murmured, "There have been…whispers recently. I have heard a member of the Anvil Sanctuary had vanished. Not killed, or arrested, but simply vanished. A young woman roughly your age. Her name was Maria."

"Vanished? You mean…" I didn't know what he meant. My mind was balking at the idea.

"She simply did not return to her Sanctuary one day."

"Maybe she left?" I suggested hopefully.

He was already shaking his head. "We do not leave the Brotherhood, little Sister. This is our family. And I knew Maria. She was talented, highly ranked, trusted by the Speakers themselves…no, she would not have left." His hand lowered and he was frowning. "So the rumors were true. I will have to speak to Ocheeva. Why didn't you tell me this earlier, little sister?"

"What's going on?" I begged, starting to feel cold. For me, the idea that one of us could simply disappear was terrifying. This was my safe place. My haven. My _home._ But now…now what? What happened if I disappeared, too? Who could make a talented assassin disappear? How was that even possible? And if they could make her disappear, someone like me would be easy. Just vanish one day, walking the roads between contracts.

Poof.

The vampire looked up, giving me a wan smile. "Nothing you need worry about, little Sister. Leave it to me to handle. We will make our inquires." When I didn't say anything, just picked at the stitches of my armor, he rose and walked over, laying a hand on my shoulder. "You are safe here. No one will harm you as long as you are careful."

"And if I'm not, to Oblivion with me?" The fear made the words come out much harsher than I'd meant, but it didn't seem to bother him.

"No. Reckless or careful, you are my Sister. You are Ocheeva's Sister, Antoinetta's sister, even Mathieu's Sister. Whatever happened to Maria, we will find out, and we will prevent it from happening again. Not to you or any of our Family." He squeezed my shoulder. "No one will take you from us without a fight."

I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth, trying to calm my racing heart. Forcing my voice light, I said, "Can I not be Mathieu's sister? Maybe get him adopted out?"

Vicente squeezed my shoulder again. "You shouldn't dwell on what he said to you. Your past is in your past, remember? You are not what you were."

"I…but the contract. I did what it said." It hurt a little, telling Vicente about it. Gods know why – I did precisely what he suggested I do. But sex just seemed to be…the easy way of doing it. Thinking back, I probably could have just lifted my top, and Llavel would have followed me anywhere.

Hey, I said he was a nice man. I never said he was a smart one.

"That was the calculated act of a trained assassin, not a whore." He smirked at me. "And there's nothing wrong with enjoying yourself a little."

"I…did. A little bit," I admitted, staring at my knees. "I mean…I just…I feel dirty, Vicente. Like I took the easy way out, or did the wrong thing or something."

"The important thing is the completion of the contract." A stern note had slipped into the vampire's voice. "The steps you take to achieve that, as long as they do not put us at risk, are immaterial. One of our greatest assassins killed an emperor by posing as his consort for years. What is a brief seduction compared to that?"

"I'm a little young for Emperor Uriel," I mumbled. "I still…"

Bending down a little, he whispered, "And I think Jontan would be impressed with you, if that's what you're concerned about."

I swear, my head almost exploded, what with all the blood rushing to my cheeks. I blathered and stammered something about him being completely wrong, that I had no interest in Jontan's opinion, and I might have used the words, 'very pretty man.' Or 'nice tight ass.'

Laugh, and I _will_ hurt you.

"So relax, little Sister. The contract was just that – simply a random contract. It was given to you by pure coincidence. Do not read any further into it. It was not meant for you. In fact, I had been planning to assign it to Telaendril when she returned."

My head whipped up, the blush vanishing in a wave of disbelief. "Telaendril? But - ? B-but it said something about a Sister who was skilled in seduction? Er…" Vicente's deadpan looks never failed to make me feel like an idiot. "What?"

"Do not flatter yourself, little Sister."

I'll admit it. I'm vain. And while I knew I was nowhere near the height of female beauty, I thought that I was pretty damn good at seducing a man if I wanted to. After all, I'd gotten Llavel, right? And, at the risk of sounding really catty, I was _sure_ that I was prettier than Telaendril.

No offense, but your opinion doesn't hold a lot of weight right now. Thanks anyway, though.

"I'm not that bad-looking, am I?" I whimpered, pressing a hand to my face.

"It isn't that, little Sister. It is simply that your personality is normally best described as…abrasive."

"I'm not abrasive!"

"And argumentative."

"I'm not-!" Breaking off, I glowered at him. "Oh, you sneaky bastard."

With a chuckle, he gave my shoulder another squeeze before stepping away. "Goodnight, little Sister. Take Antoinetta to bed with you. She needs company after her contracts."

I didn't blush again at his phrasing. Nor did I think he meant anything by it. I swear. It was just…after what Bendu said…

Let's just say that I was pretty thoughtful as I got ready for bed that night. Thoughtful about a lot of things. Even thoughtful when Antoinetta shoved my head under the water in the bath. I spat a stream of water at her as I always did, but I just couldn't quite manage the smile.

She noticed, of course. "What's wrong? Did Bendu make you upset? Or Mathieu? Was it Mathieu? He's always making everyone upset. I can get them for you, you know. I know things to do that won't get me in trouble."

"I'm fine, sweetie," I told her, reaching up to lay a finger on her lips. "I'm just thinking. Vicente and I talked about some stuff. Did you ever meet a Sister named Maria?"

"Nope. Was she here?"

"Uh…Anvil, I think."

Perching on the edge of the tub, Antoinetta swung her feet back and forth, splashing me. "I've never been to Anvil. The others have been to Anvil. Mathieu's from there, I think. I don't know, though. Vicente doesn't let me go because he says Speaker Arquen wouldn't like me."

"She doesn't like me much either, Netta," I muttered, pushing dripping hair out of my eyes. "Vicente says she doesn't really like anyone from this Sanctuary because of the Speaker."

With a rude noise, the girl gave the water a hefty kick, splashing clear to the other side of the tub. "Stupid. _I_ like Lucien. He's nice. He saved me. He took care of me."

Squinting up at her, I asked, "Saved you? What do you mean?"

"I was going to die," she said matter-of-factly. "The gang decided I had to die because I killed my uncle. Lucien stopped them and took care of me, and it's much better here. He told me all about Sithis and stuff, and that the talking I'd hear was Him. And people are nice to me here. And I like doing contracts – they're fun." She slid into the tub with me. "Sometimes I don't remember them real well, and not everyone wants to take care of me, but…"

Antoinetta wrapped her arms around me with a little noise and kissed me – one of those kisses children give, lips pursed tight and with a "mwah!" at the end. "You're nice," she told me in a whisper. "Maybe nicer than Telaendril. She gets annoyed with taking care of me sometimes. Sometimes I worry she gets mad at me."

"I'm sure she doesn't, Netta," I told her in the same whisper. "She's probably just grumpy with Gogron, not you. She worries about you a lot, just like me."

Turning her face to mine, blue eyes open and earnest, she asked, "Cla'nee? You'll take care of me, right?"

How the hell could I say no? Bendu could get bent. "Of course I will, 'Netta." I ruffled her hair with a grin. "Of course I will."

Like I said. Thoughtful.


End file.
